


Never Let Me Go

by Scarletlocks



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix It, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gang, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Love, Pole Dancing, Slow Burn, Stripping, TB, alternative universe, arthur lives, but it'll be ok, but when they fall they fall hard, soul mates, strip club, tuberculosis, yay for modern medicine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2019-11-14 15:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarletlocks/pseuds/Scarletlocks
Summary: A modern day Red Dead Redemption fic set in Texas where Arthur is the bouncer at a strip club owned by Dutch. One night he meets a sweet and slightly naive dancer who changes his life. The fic follows the following months after they meet.





	1. Never Knew I was a dancer

** The First Night **

   He wasn’t looking for love when he started his shift that night. Hell he was just looking for an easy evening without any drunken idiots trying to cause trouble but that was the risk when you were the muscle at a strip joint. During his night he’d had to break up two drunken brawls, escort out a puking customer who couldn’t hold his tequila and break a patrons nose for getting too handsy with one of the girls earning himself a split lip and a bruised hand for his chivalry.

“Thanks Arthur,” Karen said to him over the booming club music while looking at her bruised eye in a compact mirror “he was a goddamn animal.”

“Ain’t nothin’” he said, shaking his now bruised right hand, “you know I got y’all girl’s backs.”

“Miss Karen,” Miss Grimshaw the club mother to all of the girls appeared at his side, “come out back with me girl, we’ll get you some ice.” And off she guided the busty blonde to the dressing rooms in the back of the club.

“Arthur son,” Dutch, club owner, adoptive father and gentleman extraordinaire appeared next, “I trust Miss Karen is ok?” He handed Arthur a Scotch on the rocks.

   The DJ chose that moment to announce the next performer, “Alright that was Lexus! Now let’s give a big hand for Carlotta!” A brunette, whose name was most certainly not Carlotta, made her way to the stage and began to spin around the pole seductively. Arthur brought his eyes back to his boss.

“Yeah she’s fine Dutch, can’t say the same for the piece of shit we kicked outta here” he wiped his mouth with his good hand, inspected the crimson blood marking it and took a sip, “but I got to her in time.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you son.” He led him over to the bar and pulled out a stool, “here, have a seat, why not take the rest of the night off? You’ve more than earnt it, plus you can enjoy the new girls making their debut” he winked.

   Arthur mulled it over, he had about thirty five minutes left but Javier and Bill had just started their shifts so the girls were in safe hands… _“Oh hell why not?”_ he thought.  
“Yeah Dutch, I might just take you up on that offer.” He sat heavily on the red velvet stool and inspected his knuckles which were beginning to come out in a lovely shade of purple.

“Perfect!” Dutch clapped him on the back, “John! Get the man some ice and another drink! Enjoy your evening son, I have business to attend to in the back office” Dutch headed off leaving Arthur with John Marston tending bar. It was quieter here at the bar away from the booming base of the DJ’s speakers, you could actually hear yourself think.

“Well I must say Morgan, when that fella tossed his cookies in the V.I.P lounge I thought you were gonna beat the seven shades of shit outta him.” John smirked, shovelling some ice roughly into a cloth napkin and handing it to Arthur who placed it to his split lip.

“Heh, well I guess I didn’t want to risk my boots Marston.” He removed the ice from his lip and took another sip of his drink, enjoying the burn it left in its wake as it slid down his throat.

“You alright there Arthur?” Abigail had arrived with a tray full of empty glasses and bottles that she proceeded to rinse out and recycle accordingly.

“Nothing I can’t handle, as long as Karen’s alright.” He answered, returning the ice to his lip and glancing at the stage where “Carlotta” was finishing off her set. John and Abigail’s eyes followed in her direction.

“Jesus… the fuck she wearing?” John muttered, shaking his head slightly and refilling Arthur’s drink. She was clad in spandex shades of florescent oranges and greens, complete with thigh high boots and fishnets.

“I think she’s wearing an ill attempt at getting Arthurs attention seeing as she’s sweet on him” Abigail smirked and cast Arthur a sideways glance.

“Jesus Christ who AINT sweet on him?!” John said throwing the rag down onto the bar.

“Mmmmhmmmm” Abigail murmured in agreement.

“Woman we have a son!” John uttered exasperated as Arthur and Abigail laughed while she continued to wash glasses.

“Our next lady is new to this establishment so why don’t you give her a warm welcome to Delilah!”

   The patrons in the club hollered and cheered for the new girl. The lights went up and there stood an athletically built woman with long, thick mousey brown hair. The stage lights danced on the sequins of her black bra and shorts and red eight inch platform heels as she started to dance to the music. Arthur had to admit, he’d long been desensitized to the gyrating the girls did on stage, one didn’t work in a strip club and not get bored quick, but her dancing was something else. She didn’t just spin around the pole like most new starters did, she was climbing up it, flipping herself upside down and holding onto it with just her legs. Halfway through she removed her top only to reveal her nipples were covered with black tape marking an X on each breast. The three of them continued to watch transfixed as she worked her way to the end of her routine where she continued to flip and twirl her body expertly around the pole.

“Where the hell did Dutch get this one from?” Charles said, carrying two crates of beer from the back room. She chose this moment to climb to the very top of the pole only to body wave and let her self slide down into a split on the floor causing the crowd to go wild and throw dollars at her.

“God damn! Look at that money fly!” John smacked the bar with his palm. “She ain’t gonna be popular with the other girls!”

“Well If I moved like that when I was stripping I sure as hell wouldn’t need to work here anymore” Abigail muttered with a wry grin.

Arthur scoffed in agreement and checked the napkin in his hand as the lights dimmed down again signalling the end of her routine.

“What’s wrong cowpoke? Bit off more than you could chew?” Micha’s sneer appeared to his right.

“Oh Micha… I had wondered why all the birds had stopped singing.” He took another sip of his whisky.

“Heh, enjoying the new entertainment? And here I didn’t think you had it in you with the white knight act ya got going for ya. Marston, how bout a drink made by your woman’s fair hands?”

Abigail snorted at him and left the bar to collect more empties.

“Wooo-eee! I wish I was here when she was still stripping!”

John’s hand tightened on the glass he was cleaning.

“Well I can’t stay here all night, got some business to discuss with the big guy. Catch ya later cowpoke!” and he slapped his hand on Arthurs shoulder.

“That son of a bitch,” John began.

“Don’t give him the satisfaction kid, he ain’t worth it.”

“Bastards gonna get a god damn bottle to the neck if he keeps this up.”

“And not a jury would convict you,” he drained his glass. “Im going out for a smoke…” He decided to leave the vicinity before he followed Micha into the back room and unceremoniously punched his lights out.

…

 

   Arthur stood in the back alley of the club enjoying his cigarette. He breathed out a lung full of smoke and watched it disappear into the night’s sky as he leant on the railing overlooking the stairs that led to the clubs staff exit. At 2am it was pitch black out, the area only illuminated by a lone light above the basement door and the gleam from the street lights situated in the parking lot. The arid Texas night air had his shirt sticking to his back. He coughed abruptly and eyed the cigarette in his hand.

 “I gotta quit smoking” he muttered to himself. But smoking was unfortunately a habit easily learnt and hard to lose.

   He was halfway through his cigarette when the basement door opened and out came Miss Delilah herself. Her long mousey hair was pulled back into a ponytail which swung with her every step and she wore jeans, a simple shirt and trainers. A large backpack graced her shoulders and her hand bag hung from her left shoulder. She made it to the top of the stairs and as she turned to make her way to the carpark spotted him under the basement light.

“Hi… you’re with the club?” she asked unsurely eyeing his security pass strapped to his left arm. His eyes met hers and my god they were beautiful.

“I’m one of the bouncers, Arthur Morgan.” He extended his right hand to her for a handshake. She smiled beautifully and accepted his hand shaking it. Upon his hand meeting hers he felt the familiar pang of desire deep in his stomach. He was also surprised to find that although daintier than his, her hand felt strangely as dry and calloused as his own.

_“Get a grip Morgan for god sake”_ he thought harshly.

“Oh! Arthur, the girls spoke about you earlier. You really looked after Karen.” Their hands broke apart as she beamed at him, her smile reaching her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He said, eyeing the make shift ice pack in his hand.

“Ah” she winced, “hope it doesn’t hurt too badly”

“I’ll be fine, not the first time I took a hit and it won’t be the last miss?...”

“Oh” she laughed gently and he couldn’t help thinking it was a lovely sound, “Joyce”

“Huh,” he took another drag and exhaled. “So, why Delilah?”

She leant one hand against the railing and beamed again.

“Well, it’s a Florence and the machine song.”

“Right?” he deadpanned.

“It’s a different kind of danger, and my feet are spinning around, never knew I was a dancer, ‘Till Delilah showed me how” she almost sang.

He lets out a breathy laugh.

“Well it’s appropriate. Not many of the girls come in and do what you did on that stage you know?”

“Well, I guess most girls don’t do it for sport. I’m usually doing that but as an actual work out, in a room with several other girls falling onto crash mats. This is the first time I’ve done it on stage. I just love doing it and there aren’t many opportunities to perform, and Mr Van Der Linde said I didn’t have to get naked so I figured hey, why not give it a go?” she beamed so earnestly.

_“Yeah and it won’t be long before you’ll be expected to get naked”,_ he thought disapprovingly.

“Huh, I guess so.” He took another drag of his cigarette and exhaled. “Well that answers why a sweet thing like you is in a place like this”

She blushed.

“Well, and the money helps too. It certainly beats my day job, chained to a desk in an office” she said self depreciatingly.

She surreptitiously looked him up and down.

“So Arthur, what’s a sweet guy like you doing in a place like this?”

He nearly choked on his cigarette.

“Sweet?” he said disbelievingly.

“Oh definitely, by the way the girls were all talking about you.” She smiled wryly.

“Well I ah.” He paused. He might be attracted to the girl but she didn’t need to know the whole story. “I’ve known Dutch a long time, half my life. When he opened this place he asked if I wanted to work here as a bouncer. Its full time work and I knew the staff anyway so there was no reason not to.”

“I see” she smiled softly. Her green eyes seeming to see into his soul.

He coughed again.

“You know,” she started, as she searched for her car keys in her handbag, “That ain’t good for you” she eyed the lit cigarette between his fingers and smiled wryly.

“Spose it ain’t” he took another drag and exhaled the smoke slowly into the night air.

“Sooooo, shift all finished?” she said coyly, tapping her car keys against the railing.

He looked at her and stubbed out the last of his cigarette against the brick wall of the club before throwing it into a nearby puddle.

“Sure is,” he responded, pulling back from the railing and turning to face her.

“Hmmm,” she looks at him with a wry grin. Her eyes drift to the keys in her hands and then back to his but now there is a newfound twinkle in her green orbs. “Wanna come back to my place, Mr Morgan?”

He smirks and raises an eyebrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I wanted to write a short fic and this ended up being longer I had planned. I do pole dancing as a hobby and love Florence and the Machine and so this idea quickly got stuck in my head.
> 
> As always thank you to my boyfriend for being a proof reader.
> 
> Please feel free to give feedback x


	2. It Flew Between us as we Slept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spend the morning together determining what they want out of this new friendship and we also get a glimpse of Arthur's past.

 

** The First Morning **

   It took a lot to surprise Arthur Morgan. And the sweet woman of only five foot three offering to take him home with her after only ten minutes of meeting surprised him plenty. He hadn’t felt the need or inclination for a relationship in years, he learnt the hard way that the more you cared the more you had to lose. And he certainly wasn’t a man for one night stands, not since his wild teens and twenties. He had the feeling that it wasn’t her style either.

“Really?” he said with mild disbelief. “I could be a serial killer for all you know”.

“But you ain’t” she stated simply.

_“Ok Morgan. Let’s see how this plays out.”_

“Well in that case, why not?”

   They’d made their way to her car and idly chatted over the low sounds of the radio. The journey to her apartment took fifteen minutes, long enough for Arthur to mither over and over in his mind about how this whole thing would play out once they got there.

“We’re here” she said softly.

   They came to an apartment block with black window frames and white plastered walls. She expertly drove them into the complex’s underground parking garage and the car came to a stop, Joyce killing the engine with the turn of a key. And, from the way she nervously clutched those keys, she was clearly wondering what was going to happen once they reached her rooms. Her earlier bravery faulting somewhat and he assumed that his earlier hunch that one night stands weren’t her forte was true.

   He followed her in the early morning dark up the metal steps leading to the apartments above, their footsteps causing echoing clangs to sound in the silent night. They arrived at her door marked with the digits 4B and as she turned her key and began opening the door she paused.

“Oh. I hope you don’t mind dogs.”

He began to voice a retort when the door swung open and he was greeted by an excited grey blur. The blur in question was a pit bull who began to jump up excitedly at his mistress.

“Ok Java, ok good boy!” she petted his head softly. The pooch paused to stare at Arthur and slowly approached him sniffing softly. After a few moments he seemed to assess Arthur as being no threat and slowly rolled over to give him his belly.

“Hello boy” Arthur greeted, kneeling in the doorway to rub the dogs offered belly.

“See. You ain’t a serial killer Mr Morgan.” She laughed gently.

“Oh?” he responded, still rubbing Java’s belly.

“Yeah, my boys’ a rescue. He doesn’t take kindly to most men and usually they give him a reason to. You however are one of the few exceptions. Just don’t smoke around him, whatever was done to him he’s made clear they smoked while doing it”.

As Arthur absorbed her words he noted the small scars that marred the skin of the friendly pooch splayed out on his back in front of him. Some people were real pieces of work.

“Well. How bout that.” He said simply.

After Java had had his fill of belly rubs they made their way into her small but homely apartment.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked gently, dropping her keys into a bowl on top of a nearby bookcase.

“Sure.” He replied, following her into the small mint green kitchen complete with neat white tiles lining the wall above the oven. Photographs of family and friends were proudly displayed on her fridge door depicting holidays, get together’s and her youth. As she filled a kettle and placed it on the hob to heat up, she indicated that he pull up a chair at the breakfast bar. As Arthur seated himself down, Java abandoned his post at his mistress’s feet to unceremoniously squeeze himself underneath the stool Arthur sat himself upon.

“Appears you have a friend for life.” She smirked, setting up two cups and depositing a spoon of coffee into one and a tea bag into another.

“Yeah, well.” He paused to gaze down at the loveable pooch who was laying with his legs at all odd angles possible. “Dogs just seem to like me” he shrugged.

“I can think of worse traits” she smiled.

And then there was silence.

The room was loud with the wonder of what was expected to come from the evening. Coffee and a chat? Coffee and sex? Coffee and awkward silence? The cogs turned in both of their minds.

 “I,” she paused to rub at her left arm, her kind eyes averted his. “I don’t make a habit of this, you know” she gestured between them.

“Hmm? Inviting men you just met to your home?”

“Well. Yeah.” She said stupidly.

“I can tell.” He said smiling wryly. “It’s ok.” She looked at him then.

“And I don’t.” she paused again, blushing slightly. “Sleep with just anyone I meet.” She got redder by the second.

“That’s also ok.” His smile grew.

_“Coffee and a chat it is”_ he thought. Happy with the clarification.

   The kettle disrupted their conversation as it chose that moment to whistle loudly announcing that it was ready to pour. Joyce took it from the hob and began making their drinks ensuring his coffee was the way he took it; black one sugar. She handed him his piping brew and he gave his thanks.

“It’s just there was something about you. The way you helped Karen and the way the girls all talked about you. It was like you were, well, some kind of knight in shining armour.” she grinned at him again, her smile reaching her green eyes. “Or a genuinely nice guy in the least.”

He smiled despite himself and shook his head gently.

“Well I dunno about being a nice guy but I appreciate the compliment all the same.” He smiled self depreciatingly and took a sip of coffee as she smiled at him over the rim of her own drink.

“I just thought well, I wanna be brave and see where this goes. And you seemed to feel the same way.”

“Well. That I can’t deny.” He took another sip.

Her free hand went to her hair and she seemed to weigh up something in her mind.

“To the lounge?” she asked.

“Sure, after you” he responded.

   She led the way into her lounge which was painted a hue of pastel blue, a small TV stood on a table in front of the window and a fabric sofa sat before it. He smirked softly at the sight of a dancing pole taking up centre stage of the room. It appeared all the furniture had been worked around it giving it priority in this space. She flicked the switch on a lamp located on a small side table to the left of the sofa and gestured for him to join her on the plush fabric. Java followed close behind and lay on the floor between their feet.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you love it” he gestured to her pole and she beamed.

“Irrevocably. If I could do it full time I would but there isn’t really a call for it. Even most instructors do it part time. I think you could only do it full time if you own the studio and are the one calling the shots but there you are.”

“Pity, you’d have the talent for it. I guess…” he deadpanned and smiled wryly at her to show he was joking.

“Oh you be careful cowboy, or you’ll have to walk home” she began laughing and then stopped abruptly when Java jumped onto her, excited that she’d said his favourite word. “NO! DOWN BOY!” she giggled happily, a sweet sound to his ears as Java licked at her cheeks and his tail beat against Arthur’s chest. He hurriedly placed their drinks on the table beside his side of the couch as she pushed the excited pooch off of her person and, once Java realised that it was a false alarm on the walk front, he lay back into his previous position on the floor.

   She knelt on the sofa breathing slightly harder than usual, hair and shirt mussed and dog drool on her cheeks but he couldn’t help but think how lovely and at home she looked. Something must’ve shown on his face because her eyes went from his own down to his lips and back again. He decided now was as good a time as any and leant forward to capture her lips with his own, her arms immediately went around his broad shoulders and their chests pressed against one another. They kissed softly and unhurriedly so as to avoid hurting his already abused split lip. His hands framed her sweet face causing her to sigh softly and her bum hit the sofa leading him to fall atop her.

   It had been a while since Arthur had kissed a woman but he was pretty sure it never felt like this, not even with Mary Gillis herself. Her lips parted and his tongue made an entrance into her mouth, she tasted of the herbal tea she’d been drinking and of a flavour that was distinctly her. Their eyes were closed, both were breathing heavily through their noses and he was very aware that they had wiggled so that he was fully atop her as she lay on the soft plush couch. He was also very aware that they were in danger of getting carried away. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. She blinked owlishly at him.

“I-I was serious about the whole not sleeping with just anyone…” she started.

“I know darlin’, I haven’t forgot.” He stroked the hair out of her face.

“Well. What now?” she looked away. Toying with the buttons on his blue shirt.

He paused, mulling the options over in his mind.

“Well Miss Delilah, I’m too old for one night stands and screwing around. And I think you’re too young and sweet for the likes of that either. I haven’t been with anyone for a while, haven’t wanted to and yet… I would like to know where this leads. So I say we do this old school. Nice and slow. No rushin’”

 “Well I can get behind that Mr Morgan” She smiled gently. He kissed her forehead and sat up, she followed suit in righting themselves on the sofa and retrieving their drinks. His eyes caught the face of a clock that hung on the wall behind her.

“Jesus it’s gettin' really late now.” He eyed his watch and downed the last of his coffee.

“We could go to bed?”

He nearly choked.

“Decided to rush after all?” he coughed.

She laughed and jokingly smacked him on the arm.

“To SLEEP.”

“Oh err, I don’t know if that’s err”

“Look, we’ve both agreed pants are staying on for tonight anyway. And I sure as hell don’t want to be driving on my own at 3am after taking you home. It’s late. We’re tired. We’re adults. My couch is too small for all six feet of you. Just accept the offer and get in my damn bed.”

He mulled it over in his mind and came to the conclusion that, yeah, she had a point.

“After you then m’lady.”

…

   They left their cups in the sink for the morning to worry about and made their way to her bedroom. As she flicked on the switch at the wall Java plodded automatically to the bed and after jumping up and turning several times flopped down onto the duvet.

“I’ll break it to him gently that he has to move to the foot of the bed” she said with mock seriousness over her shoulder. “The bathroom is there, I should have a spare toothbrush for you, just please make yourself comfortable”. She grabbed her pyjamas and made her way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. At the closing of the door behind her he looked around the room unsure of where to begin. He wasn’t expecting this so soon. It was unprecedented. Did he sleep in his clothes or insist on taking the couch, but then he was sure Joyce would insist on him staying with her for his own comfort. His eyes met Java’s who looked at him expectantly.

“Hey look buddy I don’t know what to do ok?” Java sighed softly in response and closed his eyes.

   Arthur looked about the room taking it all in. It was in another shade of pastel blue with the usual furniture; bed, side table, wardrobe, floor length mirror. A desk stood next to the bathroom door which had a laptop on top of it, a cork board hung on the wall above depicting post it notes and more photos of precious memories. It seemed her life was a direct opposite of his own; Mother dead at five, father arrested at ten, orphaned and child of the state at eleven and in and out of foster homes until he was eighteen when he was fortunate enough to have been taken in by Dutch and Hosea. He was headed for jail for sure if he hadn’t been caught trying to steal a car from them. Hosea had taken one look at him with his kind eyes and convinced Dutch they could turn his life around. They were a different kind of criminal and they’d taken him under their wings, teaching him their golden rules; no killing, no raping, hurt no women, animals or children and no drugs. Drugs were one of the few topics that made Hosea swear.

“Arthur my boy. Don’t you go peddling that kind of stuff, and if you take any of that crap I’ll beat you myself. That shit ruins lives.” He’d said to him sternly the day he met him. He’d taken his word and hadn’t so much as smoked weed.

   It had been eight years since the club, Strawberries, had opened and it had turned their lives around. Hosea wasn’t getting any younger, he’d turned sixty five at the time and said to Dutch that he was getting too old to be conning and stealing for a living. They had a run of good luck and had gotten a tip from Miss Grimshaw about a shipment of something special that could set them up for life. After swiping the shipment and getting the cargo back to their base of operations Dutch had opened a crate and promptly made the air turn blue.

“HANDBAGS?!” He’d yelled to no one in particular clutching a package marked with the name of some Italian fashion house.

“The price tag Dutch dear,” Susan had responded dryly.

Upon seeing the Thirty six thousand dollar price tag he’d changed his tune.

“Sweet Jesus Christ!” Dutch whistled, “why so many zeros?!”

“They only made about six of them, the same goes for several other bags that were headed for a major uptown department store. And we got every single one of them.”

   That money had set them up and allowed them to legitimise not only their business but themselves in general. Owning a strip club may not be glamourous but it was clean money coming in. Ironically. But as he stood in the young woman’s bedroom he felt anything but clean. He had a ball of despair in the pit of his stomach, one day she’d find out about his seedy past and it would probably destroy her if she grew too close to him.

   The object of his thoughts entered the room at that moment, freshly changed into a vest and shorts.

“I left a toothbrush on the counter for you. Brand new I promise” she said brightly.

“Thanks” he responded and made his way into the bathroom.

   He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush Joyce left him, and as he rinsed his mouth and splashed some cold water on his face he stared at his reflection.

_“You old fool Morgan. What are you doing with such a sweet young girl?”_

   He left the bathroom and his self-depreciating thoughts behind him as he made his way to the bed, the soft light from her bed side cabinet illuminating the room. Java had been relocated to the foot of the bed and Joyce was already beneath the covers. He stood stupidly still unsure of what degree of undress he should aim for.

“Arthur, just lose your shirt, jeans and boots and get to bed already.”

He laughed.

“Yes ma’am.” He took off his security pass and shirked his shirt over his head catching the thin T-shirt he wore underneath in the process. The shirt was halfway over his head when he heard Joyce whistle.

“Woo-wee. Good to know you won’t be jealous of my abs what with you having some of your own.” He pulled the shirt fully off and laughed at the smirk on her face as he started to unbutton his jeans.

“Slow down there tiny dancer” he replied. She grinned cheekily in response and threw back the duvet on his side of the bed. He kicked off his boots and jeans and hopped into the bed which smelt of the sweet scent of clean washing and Joyce. She flicked off the light and it was only when they were finally in the dark that he realised how tired his eyes really were. He closed them and took a deep breath relaxing his tired limbs on exhale. He was about to turn over when he felt Joyce move under the covers, her head suddenly upon his left shoulder and her arm encircling his waist. He could smell her hair and resisted the urge to breathe in the scent deeply.

“Goodnight cowboy.” She sighed against him.

He paused for a moment and rested his right arm around her.

“Night Joycey.”

_“You better not hurt her Morgan.”_ He thought bitterly.

 

…

He awoke to Java licking his face.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.” She sang softly, carrying a breakfast tray towards him. He could see she’d dressed and showered already and allowed him to sleep in. He worried about the time for a split second and it didn’t get by her. “Don’t worry it’s only nine o’clock. I didn’t know whether to wake you or not and gave you a fair enough lie in”.

“Well” he started, sitting up and gently rubbing Java’s head, “you get five out of five stars so far.”

She giggled and when he was properly sat up placed the tray on his lap. A fry up consisting of toast, eggs, bacon, sausages and baked beans.

“Beans with breakfast?” he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I had an English roommate at college who introduced me to it, trust me it works.” She left the room to fetch their freshly brewed drinks and he began to dig in. He had to admit, it DID work. She arrived back with their respective drinks and sat next to him on the bed, back leant against the headboard. Java slumped himself on her lap and she busied her hands by rubbing his ears and face gently. He paused in his eating.

“You not eating?”

“I just finished mine. I’ve been up a while giving someone their morning walk.” She scrubbed Javas ears and kissed him on the forehead.

“Good.” He sipped his coffee. “So college? What did you study?”

“Sport science” she scoffed, “and in the end I got an office job selling holidays to over fifties so a fat lot of good it did me.”

“Always been an athlete then?”

“You could say that, I was a gymnast until just after college, then I found pole and it just clicked in a way gymnastics didn’t. The pressure was off. Everyone was so competitive in gym it sucked the fun right out of it” She took a sip of her tea.

“I can get that” he murmured.

“What about you Arthur? Did you go to college and get a useless degree like me?”

He scoffed into his coffee.

“Nah not me. Never had the opportunity I spose. Or the brains.” He smiled wryly at her and took another sip of coffee.

“Well it’s never too late.” She smiled kindly, “still plenty of time to get a degree you’ll never use.”

   They chatted softly just enjoying one another’s company and learning the odd fact about one another when it cropped up. He learnt that she was video gamer, a knitter and an avid gym goer. While he shared his love for horse riding and visits to his local gun range. They stayed like that until ten thirty when they realised they’d have to return to the outside world. It was Saturday so Joyce offered him a ride home seeing as she didn’t have her day job to rush to.

“You can use my shower, but I warn you, my shower gel is of the girly Lush variety.”

   After he showered and helped her with the dishes he bid Java good bye with a rub to his forehead and they set off in her car. They talked the whole drive over, laughing at the radio and flirting here and there.

He indicated which his apartment block was and she pulled up neatly in front of it.

“Well Arthur, as “one night stands” go, this was an interesting morning. Thank you” she smiled.

“The pleasure was all mine Joycey.” He returned her smile.

“Are you working tonight?”

“Afraid so”

“Well, I’ll see you tonight then cowboy” she winked jokingly at him and he smirked.

“Well I guess I will then. You take care til then” he closed her car door and waved as she drove off. As she turned the corner his arm dropped and so did his smile. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and it was all to do with the thought of her working in that club. He was an enlightened twenty first century man and believed that despite their ongoing relationship status her body was hers to do with what she wanted, including working in a strip club. But he also knew Dutch pretty well and that was why he was positive he had indeed told her she didn’t NEED to take off her clothes, however, he knew that wouldn’t be the case forever. She was too sweet a thing to be exposed to that kind of life and it just didn’t sit well with him at all.

_“You better have her back Morgan, so help you”_ he thought bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if this is any good, I'm tired and I really wanted to get the next chapter out.
> 
> A fun fact, here in the United Kingdom we have baked beans with our fried breakfasts. A friend married an american and found out that in the USA that beans aren't included and are kinda looked down on. Try it, its really good ;)
> 
> Also yay for pitbulls! and staffordshire bull terriers! and all the dogs! :)


	3. I hear your heart beating in your chest

** The second night **

   Arthur arrived at Strawberry’s a good half hour before his shift. He wished he could say it was to see Joyce before work but he had more important matters concerning the sweet but naïve young woman. He made his way to Dutch’s office knocking smartly on the door before entering, knowing the man half his life and being one of his closest allies afforded him the luxury of not having to be told he could enter.

   He found Dutch on the phone, reclined in his desk chair, legs stretched out in front of him and resting on the expensive desk he sat behind. He nodded and smiled at Arthur in greeting as he continued his call. Molly, Dutch’s current Beau, was found bored out of her mind and slouching in a chair in corner of the room. One leg crossed over the other revealing the red lacquer sole of her patent Loubouton heels and a fashion magazine clutched in the acrylic nailed fingers of her dainty hands. He was surprised to see her at the club again, she disliked the place as a whole and someone as up themselves as she didn’t want to be associated with its comings and goings. But in recent weeks he’d seen her grace the establishment with her presence more than usual, much to the chagrin of the other girls who disliked her constant snobbiness.

“That “ _princess,_ ” Karen had spat one night when few of them had gathered around the bar after work for a few drinks and some gossip. “Wouldn’t be caught dead dropping her clothes in here for money but she’d sure as shit would fuck Dutch so he’d buy her this season’s newest Gucci creation.” Mary Beth had covered her mouth to hide her smile whilst John choked on his beer.

“One thing to be said about ya girlie, ya sure got a way with words.” Arthur had responded dryly as he took a sip of his beer to which Karen had merely grinned brightly at his words.

   Molly, to say the least, certainly hadn’t endeared herself to anyone here other than Dutch. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that she had chosen to be a more physical presence at the club due to the fact that Dutch was spending more and more time there lately. It probably didn’t help that he paid close attention to Mary Beth whenever she was waitressing.

“Arthur.” Molly greeted in her distinct Irish twang.

He coughed.

“Miss O’Shea, always a pleasure” Arthur returned cordially. She smiled tightly in response before returning to her magazine.

   A prissy one was Molly O’shea but overall he had to admit that she was mostly harmless and always polite to him and as such he had no reason to dislike her.

“Ok Lenny,” Dutch said down the receiver, “you let me know how that goes and I’ll see you here tomorrow. Take care now.” He returned the phone to its rightful place.

“Everything alright?” Arthur asked.

“Nothin’ to worry about, he has some family stuff to sort out and can’t do his shift tonight is all. He’ll be here tomorrow.” Arthur nodded slowly.

“That’s alright then.” He had to admit he had a soft spot for the young man.

“So what’s wrong son?” Dutch asked sitting back up straight in his chair.

“I’m here to see you about a uh, a delicate matter.” Arthur started as his hands lay to rest on his belt buckle, his eyes darted pointedly at Molly.

Dutch raised a dark eyebrow and turned to Molly in her corner.

“Molly darlin’, could you give us a minute?”

Her response was a thinly concealed sneer and a pair of narrowed emerald eyes.

“Aw now don’t be like that sweetness, it’ll just take a minute. Go get yourself a drink.”

“Sure.” She said coldly and tottered off on her heels, the door closing behind her.

“What’s the problem?” Dutch indicated that he sit in the chair on the opposite side of his desk but Arthur declined, preferring to stand.

“Well ya see.” He started, searching to find the right words. “I got talking to one of the new girls and err-“ he paused.

Dutch smirked.

“Wouldn’t happen to be young Joyce now would it?” Arthur stared and Dutch full on grinned. “It wasn’t missed that you disappeared during your lil smoke break. Also helps that Micah saw you both leave in her car.”

“Of course he would” Arthur deadpanned.

Dutch hollered and smacked his thigh.

“I told him he was seeing things but who’d a thought! Good for you son, it’s about time you moved on from Mary, no wonder she was smilin’ when she came in.” he winked at him.

“It AIN’T like that Dutch.” Arthur said somewhat hotly.

“Oh come on boy, ya ain’t the first one of us to sleep with the girls, hell look at John and Abigail. Ain’t nothin’ to get hot under the collar about.”

“Nothin’ happened Dutch, for god sake.” He shook his head exasperatedly.

Dutch stared at him and his grin lost its sharpness.

“Well if nothin’ happened what’s this meetin’ about?”

Arthur sighed.

“Anyone can tell she’s a naïve young thing that shouldn’t be anywhere near this place Dutch. Not only that, but she seems to be under the impression that you don’t mind if she doesn’t strip.”

“That’s right, AND, in the future if she should change her views that’s fine too.” He started.

“Oh don’t sit there and act like she has a choice in the matter for fuck sake!” He threw up his hands exasperatedly.

“Arthur, Arthur! Please! Don’t get like this son, sit down.” Dutch gestured again to the chair in front of him. Arthur sighed and sat himself down heavily. “Now, I don’t know what happened last night with you two and frankly I don’t need to. But,” Dutch pointed a finger loosely at Arthur. “Whether ya knockin’ boots or not it’s her choice to be a stripper not yours, let’s nip that in the bud right now.”

“I don’t have a problem with what she does Dutch, just don’t lie to the girl.” Dutch nodded and dropped his hand.

“I promise you Arthur it ain’t like that. Usually yes, but not for her. When she came in for an audition the other day… well you saw her! She’s incredible! I couldn’t pass up someone like her! When she said she didn’t want to strip I made a special exception for her for obvious reasons. There ain’t a hidden agenda Arthur my boy, it’s like I said. If she chooses to strip that’s up to her. As long as she does what she’s good at and gets the crowd fired up she could wear a taffeta ball gown for all I care.”

Arthur mulled it over in his head slowly, and as usual, trusted Dutch was telling him the truth.

“Alright Dutch,” he sighed, “Just wanted to be clear here. But I’ll be keeping an eye on her, I meant it when I said she’s too naive for this place.” Arthur stood and Dutch followed suit.

“Wouldn’t expect any less of you Arthur. You look after every one of those girls like they were your family. And I get it, I do, and I respect you for lookin’ out for Joyce and for them. Hell they’re the reason this club keeps goin’ after all.” He outstretched his hand and Arthur took it. “This place wouldn’t have gotten where it is without you ma boy.” He placed his free hand over Arthurs and gave it a gentle shake. It was the sort of gesture a father would give his son.

“I always got your back Dutch, you know that.” He nodded with finality at him and their hands released. “I better get out there and earn my bread. Thanks Dutch.” The Older man gave him a fatherly smile and he opened the office door to return to the club floor. When he did however he came face to face with Micah.

“Oh hey Cow poke, I see your girlie is still able to walk after last night. Must be losing your touch” he smirked at his own vulgar joke.

“Oh Micah, you really need to find a girl. Give your hand a rest.” He walked away without a second glance but could feel Micah’s glare on his back.

…

   The club was about an hour away from opening so the workers spent this precious time ensuring everything was ready before then. This included making sure that the bar was stocked, costumes were ready, the DJ booth was working and that everything was clean. He made his way to the bar where he found John and Abigail preparing fruit for cocktails while Molly sat on a stool, chin in hand and staring blankly at a glass of cola in front of her. A few of the dancers including Karen and Jenny were practicing on stage with the poles.

  As he made his way to John and Abigail, Arthur glanced at Molly and paused.

“… You ok there Molly? You’re awful quiet nowadays.”

“Hmmm.” She brought her eyes from her to drink to Arthur, “I’m just not good company right now.”

“Right.” Arthur responded slowly and frowned. He was about to inquire more when Molly interrupted him.

“Is Dutch free now?”

“Uh, no, Micah the almighty is talking to him”

She wilted physically.

“Oh.” Her chin met her hand again with an air of defeat.

“He shouldn’t be too long, I’ll catch ya later Molly.”

“Bye Arthur.” She said simply.

   Arthur knew in his gut that the situation between Dutch and Molly was a storm brewing and he didn’t want to get involved. However, he likened the situation to the couple sitting on a box of dynamite and lighting the fuse. Sooner or later it was going to blow up and it was going to hit everyone around them in their wake whether they wanted it to or not.

“Hey Arthur” John said in greeting as Arthur joined him and Abigail behind the bar.

“John, Abigail” he greeted back.

“Hey there Arthur” she smiled in return, looking up briefly from the bunch of limes she was cutting up. “I take it you just had a word with Dutch” she lowered her voice “as her ladyship graced us with her presence” she gestured softly with her knife at Molly who was at the other end of the bar.

“I can’t get my head around her” John murmured, nodding his head in Molly’s direction and severing a lemon in two with finality.

“Oh?” Arthur poured himself a glass of water.

“Well, she’s the classy sort, ain’t nothing wrong with that. But it’s clear to see the woman is miserable. Dutch spends more of his time here which makes her miserable, so she spends more time in a place that makes her miserable which makes all the girls miserable because they hate her.”

“Just as well, misery likes company.” He responded dryly to which Abigail smirked.

“Heh, well I guess that’s true.” He gave Arthur a sideways glance, “speaking of company. What’s this I hear about you and the new girl?”

 _“Oh here we go”_ Arthur thought grimly. It sounded as though word had gotten out about him and Joyce leaving the club together. That goddamn bastard Micah sure loved to stir the pot.

“John, you leave him be” Abigail frowned, gesturing the knife at him to which he held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Nothin’ happened. She gave me a ride home and that was that.” Arthur groused.

“If you say so” John chuckled gently placing the knife down onto his chopping board. “I better go help Sean in the stock room, we’re running out of time.” He paused, “plus I don’t wanna see Arthur and the newbie make kissy faces at each other”

Arthur rolled his eyes and repressed the urge to laugh. He and John were always mocking each other in good humour and tonight was no different.

“Just get outta here Marston before I start practicing knife throwing and use you as a moving target”

John exited through the staff door behind the bar, his laughter following him as he went. This left Arthur with Abigail who looked at him expectantly.

“So, what’s the story Arthur?”

Arthur sighed.

“There ain’t no story Abby. It’s like I said. Nothing happened.”

“Uh huh… So if nothing happened, why did Miss Joyce come in smiling like a schoolgirl? And why did you have to go talk to Dutch?”

Arthur placed his hands on the bar, head hung and his spine rigid. His patience wearing thin.

“Hey hey Arthur” Abigail frowned and placed her hand on his left forearm. “I’m not trying to pry, I just want to know you’re ok. We both know your romantic life hasn’t been the happiest and Christ knows you deserve better. I know you don’t sleep around so this must be more than that. Talk to me.”

   He looked to her face full of concern and sighed deeply. It was true that his love life had been nothing but disappointment and heartache. In his thirty six years of life he’d only been in a relationship with two women and both times had ended tragically. He had met Mary when they were both twenty, young enough to be idealistic and yet old enough to know better. Her father was old money and looked down on him with a passion. She knew what he was and was fine with that until the day she finally wasn’t, but he was willing to turn it around for her. He’d gotten a job working in a local stable, learning how to care for the horses and even how to ride and train them. It was honest work and paid badly, and yet he loved every minute of it. He’d saved his wages and bought a small cubic zirconia engagement band. Nothing fancy but it was bought with honest money.

“It’s all yours, I swear. Bought fair and square” He’d told her earnestly as he handed it to her.

She’d looked at it and then positively beamed at him.

“Oh Arthur yes, I’ll marry you.” Those words making him the happiest he’d ever been.

He should have known better.

She’d turned up on his doorstep the next morning in the rain. Eyes red and puffy with sadness and grief. The weather matching the scene and the storm in his heart.

“My daddy, he’s sending me away to Europe” She cut back a sob, “I’m sorry Arthur. You’ll make someone happy one day, but it can’t be me.”

   He’d reached for her then, wanting to pull her to him and never let go but she’d finished her words and ran to the chauffeured car waiting for her, puddles of water splashing beneath her dainty feet.

He never saw her again.

He’d heard she’d married well and hoped she was happy in the life her father had designed for her. After she’d left he had gone back to his life of crime with Dutch and co, but still went to that same stable. Finding peace with the horses and clean air.

His next foray into romance was with Eliza.

Eliza.

_“Jesus”_

“Arthur?”

   He looked at Abigail, a worried frown on her pretty young face. In another life he and she could’ve made a go of it. They hadn’t, and with a good fifteen years in age between them he was her big brother and she one of his closest friends.

“We’re,” he paused to find the right words. “Well, dating you could say.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to retort so he pressed on before she could utter a word.

“I know you’re worried but you don’t have to be. She’s different to the other dancers. Sweet. Good.” he let out a self-depreciating laugh, “too good for me anyway.”

“Aw now Arthur, ya gonna make me cry if you keep talking like that.” She smiled gently at him.

“Well you know I hate to make a woman cry” he smiled weakly and took another sip of water. “I wouldn’t worry yourself, when she finds out what I am, what we all are. She’ll be gone. I should do the decent thing and cut her loose”

“Oh Arthur” she threw her knife down “you don’t know that she-“

“Hi Arthur” a sultry voice interrupted from behind him. Arthur turned to find one of the dancers, “Miss Carlotta” standing with a flirty smile. She had been dropping hints for months that she was interested in him, so much so that it was no secret to anyone who worked at Strawberries that she was “sweet on him”. Arthur however did not reciprocate. This was due to a mixture of his lack of attraction to her and also the fact that she was a bitch to Molly and the other girls. This girl was mean for sport.

“Hey Amber” he greeted, taking a sip of his water. “Not getting ready with the girls?”

“Oh you know me. Im ALWAYS ready” she smiled even more sultrily at Arthur. Behind him Abigail tried to contain her mirth.

“Fair enough” he shrugged, blatantly disinterested to which Amber was oblivious.

“Oh Jesus what’s SHE doing here again?” she gestured in Molly’s direction with a look of distain. “Hasn’t she figured out no one gives a shit about her?”

Arthur frowned slightly as he saw Molly slump even more on her stool. Amber had said it loud enough for Molly to hear and it was plain to see that it was her goal.

“Amber, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready like everyone else?” Abigail said slightly hotly. He could tell that she wasn’t impressed with Amber’s treatment of Molly despite how disliked the Irish woman was.

“Well, truth is I’d couldn’t stay in that dressing room much longer. Miss prissy pants was getting on my last nerve with her squats and star jumps” Amber crossed her arms and scowled like she’d smelt a bad smell. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Molly glance in her direction from across the bar, peeking her interest.

“Miss who?” Abigail asked with a raised brow.

“Urgh, the newbie out back” Amber raised her arms and signalled quotation marks with her fingers, “waaaarmiiiing uuuuup” she said mockingly. “Guess getting ready with the girls is beneath her just like taking her clothes off is” she paused to take an invisible piece of lint off of Arthur’s shirt, “If she does anymore sit ups her six pack will make her look even more like a man” she smirked drawing circles on his chest with her manicured finger.

   Abigail watched for Arthur’s reaction with a small smile, Amber, in her obliviousness still didn’t notice what with her fascination with Arthur. They were interrupted in that moment by Sean who was in the midst of bringing bar stock from the store room.

“Hey Arthur!” Sean called in his distinct Irish twang and carrying a crate of assorted alcohol. “I hear ya missy arrived about twenty minutes ago! Won’t be long now!” he winked at him as he deposited the crate behind the bar and sauntered off.

Amber’s smile faltered slightly as did her hand on Arthur’s chest.

“What’s he talking about?”

“Arthur met someone” Abigail said nonchalantly. Ambers smile slipped slowly off her face.

“Met someone?” she deadpanned, finally removing her hand from his chest.

   It was well known among the workers at Strawberries that Arthur did not get romantically involved, not that that fact ever stopped Amber. The news that Arthur was finally off the market must have blown her tiny mind if her reaction was anything to go by.

“Mmm” Arthur uttered noncommittedly.

Her mouth hung open for a moment.

“You. YOU have a girl?”

“One way of putting it I s’pose” he shrugged evenly. Her expression turned into a deep frown, all pretences dropped.

“I see…” She looked away from Arthur as if to process this information.

“One of the dancers” Abigail supplied as she continued slicing lemons. She was enjoying this far too much.

“One of the dancers?!” Amber uttered. “Who?!” Arthur could swear Molly just snorted into her drink at Amber’s displeasure.

   At that moment he spotted Joyce entering the club area and making her way to the poles to warm up. Once there, her eyes searched the room until they settled on Arthur who caught her eye. She smiled shyly and gave a small wave which he returned with the raise of his hand. This didn’t go unnoticed by Amber whose expression soured with anger.

“See ya later Amber. You better er, WARM UP for your routine.” He said simply, leaving his glass in the sink and strolling away from the bar. Abigail covered her mouth as a bubble of laughter escaped her while Amber stood stewing in a mixture of mortification and anger.

As Arthur made his way to the stage he passed Molly again who was smiling to herself gently.

“How’re you doing there Miss Molly?”

“Hmm” she smirked and raised her brow, “a little better thank you Arthur”.

“You’re welcome Molly” he smiled in return.

…

   Arthur made his way determinedly to Joyce who was doing small spins around the pole.

“Well hello, cowboy.” She greeted coming out of a clever twirl.

“Joycey” he returned.

“Don’t suppose you need a lift home tonight?”

He gave a breathy laugh.

“Nah, not tonight” he replied.

“Aaah a shame” she smiled in return. Her eyes went to the bar and returned to Arthur’s with a slight frown. “Who’s that girl giving us the stink eye?”

“Oh, that’s Amber, she ain’t too happy because err.” He felt his face heat up slightly. “Because she found out that I’m off the market.”

“Oh I see, so I beat her to the pot as it were?” she smiled wryly at him.

“Yeah, she’s been dropping hints at me for months but she ain’t my type.” Now it was Joyce’s turn to blush.

“Oh really? So, what is your type?” she smiled cheekily.

“Oh you know. Great dancer. Animal lover. Tea drinker. Hates her job. Great ass. The usual traits.”

She chuckled and blushed deeply.

“Lucky me” she smiled shyly.

He beamed back at her but the smile soon fell off his face as something dawned on him.

“Actually Joyce, you be careful of her. She’s a nasty piece of work and words gotten around about how we left together last night.”

“Hmm, duly noted.” She frowned slightly. “I’ll keep an eye out but she can’t be worse than the gymnasts I knew, or their parents for that matter. Either way, I don’t do drama. She can start shit with me but she won’t get much outta it.”

“Well as long as you’re careful.”

“Thank you for caring” she smiled gently at him, the frown fading from her face. “Oh yeah, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“I got no plans. What were you thinking?”

“Well. I’m free all day, we can take Java for a walk? Get coffee?”

“Sounds great. I’ll meet you at your place at 12?”

“Perfect” she beamed.

“I’ll let you get ready then.” He gestured at the pole. “

“Thanks” she beamed. “Oh, and make sure you don’t miss my dance”

…

   Arthur did his usual rounds of the place keeping an eye on the waitresses and dancers making their way around tables. The night was still young and so customers hadn’t gotten quite drunk enough to kick off and cause a fuss.  As the night wore on things stayed pretty much quiet apart from a few customers who couldn’t handle their alcohol, which was nothing new. People would always exceed their limits.

“And now gentlemen if you could give a big welcome to Miss Delilah!”

   The crowd cheered and hollered for Joyce as she made her way on stage. As the lights went back up and the music started Arthur recognised it as that Lady Gaga track that had been doing the rounds on the radio and grinned to himself at the beginning lyrics of the track.

“I just love a cowboy”.

   He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at her choice of track. Just for him. The music built and Joyce started her routine with a series of flips and twirls and he couldn’t help but think how amazing she was at what she did. And what a shame this was one of the few places she had to be to get any recognition for it.

He caught her after she left the stage, ten and twenty dollar bills clutched in her hands.

“Arthur” she greeted breathlessly. In her bra and shorts he could see her chest and abdominal muscles heaving slightly in an effort to catch her breath. He embraced her noticing how her eight inch platforms put them at the same height. “How was it?”

“Incredible” he said simply. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Sure you do, _Cowboy_ , it’s just practise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, it took me a while to get this chapter out. I've had a lot of stress in my personal life and I'm finally at the end of it after eight very long months. I'm just thankful I've finally got this one uploaded :)


	4. You Deserve to be Loved

** The Third Day **

  

   Arthur awoke early and spent the morning in his usual routine; a quick jog before the sun rose too high, shower, breakfast and the odd bit of housework. The only difference to any other morning was the need to occupy his mind away from the nerves in his stomach. He’d awoken to the squirmy sensation in his gut that he hadn’t had since he was an adolescent; butterflies in the stomach. He couldn’t pinpoint why he felt these nerves so acutely but he knew it was down to his indecision over his blooming relationship with Joyce. He readied himself to leave for Joyce’s and as he checked himself in the mirror he couldn’t help but think of last night after Joyce had left to go home.

…

_When she’d finished her shift Arthur walked Joyce to her car not wanting the young woman to walk across the dark carpark alone at three am. When they reached their destination she toyed with her keys and smiled at him._

_“Thanks for escorting me, it’s really kind of you.”_

_“Aint nothing, I just like to know you girls get home ok.” he shrugged and she smiled at him._

_“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”_

_“Yeah I’ll meet you at yours at… twelve?”_

_“Twelve” she nodded._

_They both stood awkwardly for a moment, neither one making a move but knowing that this would be the time to kiss each other goodnight. And yet, they had the feeling it was too soon in this burgeoning relationship. She looked to her keys._

_“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Arthur.”_

_“Goodnight Joycey” he waited for her to hop in and then closed the door for her. As she reversed out and down the road he waved goodbye and made his way to the back door of the club, lighting a cigarette as he went. Leaning against the wall of the club like the night they met he stared into the night sky as he took a drag._

_He heard the back door open._

_“…Arthur?”_

_He turned to see Abigail in the doorway._

_“Abby.” She walked towards him letting the door slam shut behind her. He held out his cigarette to her and she took it, placing it to her mouth and taking a long drag from it. “Taking a break?”_

_“Yep” she exhaled a lung full of smoke._

_This was a common occurrence between the two of them. When they both worked the extra late shift they could be found on their breaks often sharing a cigarette and chewing the fat. It was a good way of getting something off their chests, each acting as an agony aunt in turn. Mostly it was a way for Abigail to bitch about John when he was being an ass, something that had reduced in recent years, perhaps the boy was growing up after all._

_“Well pull up a wall then.” He gestured to the space next to him and she smiled and leant against the wall._

_“So, that was quite a performance” she handed him back his cigarette as he breathed out harshly._

_“Yeah.” He took another drag._

_Abigail raised a brow._

_“And?”_

_“Wasted on me.” He stated simply, smoke exhaling from his mouth as he spoke._

_“For fucksake Arthur.” She breathed sharply and took the cigarette from his hand again. “Who needs Micah throwing barbs at you when you do it enough to yourself?” She leant heavily against the brick wall of the club._

_He gave a short laugh and looked back up at the stars again._

_“So are you official?” she took in a puff of smoke._

_“We… agreed we wanted to see where this goes.”_

_“Aaaah” she exhaled a stream of smoke into the night air. “But what? You ain’t good enough for her? Because you were a product of your upbringing and did what you had to at the time?”_

_He frowned and stared at her._

_“It ain’t as easy as all that.”_

_“OH THE FUCK IT AINT!” she exclaimed and stepped away from the wall to face him, her voice echoing in the carpark._

_“Keep your voice down!” Arthur scolded._

_“The fuck it aaaaaaaint!” she whispered smarmily at him wiggling her fingers in the air._

_“The fuck are you? Twelve?” he rolled his eyes with a smirk. She responded by sticking her tongue out at him and leant back against the wall. For a moment neither of them said a thing, just enjoying the arid night air and the stars._

_“Hmmm,” she started, her eyes still looking upwards at those stars, “I know Dutch sends you out on jobs now and again but let’s face it, they ain’t like what they used to be. And it’s not like you ever killed a man right?”_

_Arthur sighed in response._

_“And,” she continued, pausing to take another puff on their shared cigarette “so what if you were “on the wrong side of the law?” As much as I got sick of Dutch’s prophesising about how we were a modern day robin hood I have to agree with him. All you did was steal from rich bastards that fucked this country up with their greed anyway.”_

_Arthur let out a brief chuckle._

_“Yeah, the man has a way of getting carried away but the logic is there.”_

_Abigail smiled in return._

_“So what’s the hold up?” she said with kind eyes._

_Arthur let out a puff of air._

_“I guess,” he paused, trying to think of a way of conveying his feelings. “Nothing’s gone right for me in life other than the gang, why would it change now?”_

_Abigail stared at him, her eyes drifting over every nook of his face in the hopes of reading whatever thoughts or feelings were going around his head. She exhaled heavily and glanced at the cigarette between her two fingers, she flicked it with her thumb making ash fall off and blow away into the night air._

_“Well,” she paused to bend her left knee and sit the sole of her foot against the wall. “You’re standing here saying you ain’t worth her and yet I’m pretty sure it was you that was holding her close when she got off stage.” She took another drag and handed the cigarette back to him. “And from what I could see, she didn’t mind you holding her either. So from that alone I think we can agree that she thinks you’re worth her time.”_

_He remained silent, still staring at those stars._

_She sighed._

_“How bout you let her decide whether you’re worth her time, or better yet if she’s worth yours. It aint all about her ya know? As foreign a concept as it is to you. You do matter.”_

_He looked at her then._

_“I just don’t think.” He stopped and she waited patiently for him to continue. “That I deserve to be happy.”_

_Abigail stared blankly at him as Arthur breathed out harshly._

_“I dunno,” he sighed, “Maybe I should end i-OWW!”_

_Abigail had smacked him round the back of the head and then snatched the cigarette out of his hand._

_“What the fuck was that for?!” he spat, rubbing his head._

_“For being a damn fool.” She took a drag and exhaled with a sneer. “You never know unless you try. If it doesn’t work out then you can say you tried. But for all you know you could be hitched with a baby on the way a year from now. So you might as well see how this goes.”_

_He frowned at her and rubbed his head, letting her words sink in._

_“How are you this wise at twenty one?”_

_“I tell it like it is.” She said blankly, arms crossed and cigarette held between her lips, bouncing with every syllable._

_Finally he lowered his hand and gestured for his cigarette which she returned to him._

_“Hmm,” he took a final inhale of smoke and flicked the cigarette into a nearby puddle.  “Why didn’t I marry you?” He gave a wry grin._

_“Because you’re a damn fool Morgan.” She said dryly._

_They gave a small chuckle and stood in companionable silence once more. No sound other than the booming club music emanating through the wall behind them._

…

He took one last look in the mirror and huffed.

“Ok. Let’s see how this goes.”

He grabbed his keys.

…

   After parking his truck he made his way up the familiar metal staircase leading to the apartments above and to her abode. He paused at her door to straighten his shirt and rang the bell. There was a moment’s pause followed by the sounds of footsteps and then the door opened and he was met by Joyce’s beaming smile. He was unsure whether to embrace her or plant a chaste kiss on her cheek and so he simply returned her smile and gave a slight nod.

“Hi Joycey”

“Arthur” she breathed pausing in the door frame, she was dressed in a white vest top with denim shorts and beat up old trainers. She stepped forward to embrace him and he placed his arms around her instinctively, breathing in her scent. After a moment she left his arms and stepped aside for him to enter with a smile. He suddenly felt silly worrying about physical contact between them and how much was appropriate. “Come on in, I had to put Java in my room quickly so he didn’t come and love you to death.” She turned and made her way along the hallway to her bedroom. “He’s excited because he knows he has a walk due.”

He followed her into her apartment and chose to wait in the hallway while she retrieved the grey Pitbull.

“Where abouts are we heading?” he called out to her. He heard the sound of dog paws sliding excitedly against the wooden floor of Joyce’s bedroom as she clicked Java’s harness into place.

“A nearby park, it’s got a penned area for dogs to run around.” She called back “ok! Calm down! Go on then.” The sound of excited paws approached him loudly and he was met by Java throwing his front paws against his waist.

“Hi boy” Arthur cooed at him whilst rubbing his head, Java soon calmed down as he sniffed Arthurs boots “that’s a good boy.”

“He sure loves you Arthur.” He glanced at Joyce to find her positively beaming at him.

“Eh, just got a way with animals I suppose.” He shrugged as Java bounded towards Joyce as she plucked his lead from the wall hook.

“I like to think they sense a good person” she smiled softly.

_“If only you knew the truth”_ he thought bitterly, but he chose not to respond.

She clicked Java’s lead into place and grabbed her purse.

“It’s not too far,” Joyce stated, checking her purse, “we can walk over” she lead the way out of the apartment and, once everyone had vacated, paused to turn her keys in the front door with an extra jiggle to the handle to ensure it was indeed locked. The three of them made their way down the metal steps leading to the lower floors, Java’s toe nails clicking gently against the steel steps as they went. Once ensuring the tarmac wasn’t too hot for Java’s padded feet they crossed the carpark and began the short walk over to the nearby park.

“I figured this would be a good way to get to know each other” she said quietly.

“Oh?” Arthur looked at her.

“Yeah, Java can have a run about and we can just… talk” she smiled shyly at him and he returned it with one of his own.

“Yeah? Sounds like a plan”

…

 

   They passed the time conversing about neutral topics; work, the weather and recent news. After about five minutes they arrived at the park which could only be described as a lush space of green found in the middle of a bustling metropolis. At one end there was a shallow concrete pond with small jet fountains dotted around it and at the other end was a large dog park surrounded by a metal chain link fence. In between them was a wide space of green grass that was a hub for a variety of activities. A group of young girls were spread out on the ground and talking animatedly to one another while sunning themselves under the hot Texas sun as nearby an artist was stood at an easel trying to capture the view of green trees with a skyline of tall office buildings towering above them. Small children were running through the refreshing water jets and into the water giggling madly as older kids were found scattered about enjoying their summer break and playing games of catch and football while parents watched on from picnic blankets. Arthur looked away and tried to quell the lump that formed in his throat.

“That’s it Java, nearly there.” Joyce giggled. Java, knowing that his destination was within sight, pulled on his lead and started to bark excitedly. Arthur unlocked the gate leading to the pound and held it open for Joyce and Java, once all had entered he closed it and slid the slide lock back into place as Joyce unclipped the lead from Java’s harness so that he could have his freedom. Finding that they were alone in the park they decided to walk with Java up and down a few times and then seated themselves on a bench while Java ran around joyfully worrying a stick in his wide mouth.

“Have you ever had a dog Arthur?” Joyce smiled as she watched Java run in circles with the stick poking out of his mouth.

Arthur thought with a pang of his own dog Copper, a Hungarian Vizsla he’d had in his twenties. He was his constant companion until the day he had passed away eight years ago and he hadn’t had the heart to welcome another dog into his life. Dogs had a habit of imprinting on your heart so deeply that decades after the end of their life they still seemed to walk by your side.

“Yeah” he sighed, “Only one and well, never had the heart to have another one after that.” Joyce smiled softly in empathy. “How bout you? Have you always had dogs?”

“Nah, my parents aren’t the animal type.” She said somewhat coldly, indicating to Arthur that there was more to it than that but he chose not to pry. “My grandma though, she loves them. She grew up on a farm in Ireland and now she’s constantly finding more animals to take in.” she was beaming now. “On her weekends she goes to farm animal auctions and buys the animals no one wants for one reason or another. She’s made a small ranch out of it, hell she’s the reason I found Java. She said we’d be good for each other”

“Sounds like you’re real close.” Arthur said gently.

“That’s an understatement” she grinned. “I love visiting her.”

“Did she raise you?”

“Hmm not exactly.” She frowned slightly, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. “But she was always there for me in one way or another, so in a way I have three parents. Four if you count her husband, I never met my actual grandpa as he passed before I was born, but her second husband is lovely.” She has a wistful look on her face as she watched Java bound across the grass.

“And your parents?”

She frowned again.

“Hmm, well with that I don’t know where to begin” she avoided his eyes.

“Ah, ya don’t have to go into it if it’s too painful, sorry I pried.” He frowned concernedly.

“No need to be sorry, I think the best way to put it is we have our differences.” She paused and seemed to weigh up her next words carefully. “They weren’t too happy with me moving here to Valentine, but I wanted to be closer to my grandma and needed a change of scenery. The last time I talked to them was about four years ago, just after I turned twenty one. I didn’t think I’d make it but here I am.”

   Arthur let her words sink in. It sounded like there was more to it with her family but he didn’t have a right to pry into her personal business. She’d tell him in her own time. A thought struck him. Four years ago. Twenty one.

“So you’re… twenty five?”

Joyce raised an eyebrow

“Yeeeeah?”

“No, no nothing. Just glad to know you’re over eighteen and I won’t get arrested it all”

She burst into laughter.

“What a relief for you.” She said dryly but with a twinkle in her eye. “And may I ask your age?”

Arthur coughed.

_“Far too old for you”_ he thought self depreciatingly.

“Thirty six”

“Oh.” She said slowly. And looked away in thought.

_“Oh Jesus”_ he cringed inwardly.

“Yeah… that’s a good eleven years between us. If ah, if it’s too much I understand” he began.

“What? Oh no no! I was just thinking, my gran was eighteen and my grandad thirty six when they started their relationship. He was American but met her while on vacation in Ireland.”

Arthur let out a low whistle.

“Well I guess she couldn’t complain then?” he offered weakly to which Joyce snorted with laughter.

“It was the 50s, what can I say?” She paused to watch Java gnaw on his stick and Arthur took this moment to look at her side profile. My god she was beautiful.

Arthur swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry to hear about your family though, it sounds like a rough deal”

 She looked to Arthur and smiled gently.

“It is what it is.” She shrugged, “I just wanted to be honest about it, it’s much easier that way.” She paused to place a strand of hair behind her ear. “So what about your family?” 

Arthur thought his next words through carefully.

“Well ah, I was orphaned at eleven.” Joyce’s eyebrows furrowed and her eyes softened with empathy. “That’s pretty much how I know Dutch, he and Hosea raised me. I ended up making my own family.”

“Sometimes that’s the best family” she offered gently and softly placed her hand atop his on the bench between them.

He gave a smile and turned his hand to link their fingers.

“Yeah, that’s true enough” he responded. “I’ve made the best of it.”

They spent the next few minutes watching Java. He had meanwhile lost interest in his stick and was sniffing the ground having caught scent of something interesting.

“Well I’d say he’s had enough of a run around, wanna come back to mine?”

“Sure.”

…

   Quarter of an hour later Arthur found himself in Joyce’s apartment, leaning on the arm of her sofa and clutching a glass of lemonade she’d made fresh that morning.

“This one’s called a brass monkey” Joyce stated, hanging upside down on her pole and using only her arm pit and one leg to stay put.

“Ya don’t say” Arthur responded slightly dumbstruck.

She hopped down and beamed at him.

“Whenever I show my friends they squirm in the seat and tell me not to hurt myself” She rubbed the back of her knee to relieve the ache from where the pole had pinched her.

“Yeah?” Arthur looked from Joyce to the pole she was leaning on. “Well I dunno about brass monkeys girlie but ya sure got brass balls” to which she burst into laughter.

“Heh I guess so”

“So all of these moves” he gestured his glass of lemonade at her pole, “they got names?” he took a sip of his drink enjoying how refreshing it was after the walk in the sun.

“Pretty much. There’s tons of em.” She sank to the floor and reached over for her own glass which she’d placed on the floor by the sofa. “Some are just for spinny pole and others for static.”

“Spinny?” Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

“The pole itself can spin, but you have to unlock it.”

“Well, that’s how they do it. I feel cheated, I just thought the girls had the knack for spinning fast.” Joyce laughed again.

“Is this the adult equivalent of finding out santa isn’t real?” she beamed.

“Well I dunno bout that but consider my mind blown” he grinned back at her.

   They stayed like that in pleasant company, talking back and forth like they’d known each other years. Joyce sat comfortably on the floor while he still leant against her sofa, Java laying on his plush cushions sated with the walk he’d just had.

Arthur could get used to this.

Eventually however, after two hours of her pleasant company Arthur had to leave so he could get ready for work. He had the late shift again but wanted to catch a quick nap before he had to make his way to Strawberries.

Joyce collected his glass from him and placed it on the coffee table along with hers.

“Thanks for coming today it was really nice” she said, leading the way to the front door.

“Thanks for inviting me” he returned. “Been a while since I walked a dog, forgot how refreshing it is”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time he needs a walk” she smiled gently.

She opened the door for him and he stepped outside, turning to say goodbye to her.

“I’ll see you soon” she smiled gently.

And then there they were hovering in the doorway again.

“Yeah” he said with a smile of his own. He looked at her; sun kissed skin, gentle smile, kind eyes and messy bun.

She looked to the floor and sighed softly.

“I guess that’ll be at work…” she brought her eyes back to his and her sentence drifted off unfinished. He took a small step closer to her and her breath hitched, her elegant neck craning slightly to look up at him in the small space they stood in. He noted her eyes caressing his face in quiet awe and decided to finally take the plunge.

He kissed her.

   The kiss itself was chaste in its own way, no one opened their mouth and their lips barely moved and yet when her petal soft lips met his own his heart swelled. At thirty six Arthur Morgan was no virgin, that is to say, he’d kissed his share of girls. But he had to admit that no one, not even Mary Linton herself, compared to how it felt to kiss Joyce.

But all too soon the kiss had to end.

   He pulled back and stared at her face, for a brief moment her eyes were closed, long eyelashes fanning over her blushed cheeks. They slowly fluttered open and her soft lips turned upwards into a gentle smile.

_“Everything about you is gentle”_ he observed to himself.

“I’ll see you soon Joycey” he spoke softly.

“See you soon Arthur” she responded in a voice just above a whisper.

   Arthur turned and made his way down those familiar metal steps and into the underground carpark to his car. He pulled open the silver door and sat heavily into the driver’s seat, clicking his seatbelt into position and placing his hands on the steering wheel. Preparing to reverse out of his parking space he glanced into the rear-view mirror and caught his own blue eyes staring back at him.

   He sighed.

“Ok.” He swallowed thickly. “I think I can do this”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it took so long to update I really struggled with this chapter but once I got over the hump it started to really flow out of me. I dont know if Abigail is out of character here but I figured she'd be different than in the game seeing as she's a modern woman plus I really wanted her and Arthur to have a close relationship :) I'm interested to see what peoples thoughts and suggestions are so far so please comment away.   
> The part about people squirming when she pole dances actually came from one of my own experiences. Pole is alot like gymnastics and while showing some friends some of the more complex stuff they were squirming and couldnt look hehe :)


	5. An Unexpected Delivery

** The Third Night **

 

   When Arthur arrived home he couldn’t help but feel more hopeful about his situation with Joyce. The more he got to know her the more he discovered what an amazing woman she was, although, he couldn’t help but think how this proved more and more that she was too good for him. Brushing the surface of the situation with her family though, it hinted to Arthur that she had baggage of her own. Maybe not enough to match the load that he carried on his own shoulders, but maybe enough that they were kindred spirits when it came to their parents at least.

   He downed a glass of water fresh from the tap and made his way to his bedroom, setting about in his usual routine when he had a string of late shifts. He started by turning on his ceiling fan and drawing his curtains, the blackout backing a godsend in the summer months when the Texas sun would reign supreme. He moved onto setting his alarm and removing his shirt and jeans before falling back onto his bed, not bothering to draw back the duvet. He wouldn't need it in this heat. Breathing in deeply he relaxed his entire body on a slow exhale and began to doze off, the rattle of the fan and the occasional passing car the only sounds to be heard.

   Arthur had barely been asleep when he was rudely awakened by his phone ringing loudly next to him. He jolted up right confusedly, his sleep addled mind thinking for a moment that his alarm had triggered but was surprised to find the caller ID flashing “Strawberries club” at him. He rubbed his eyes and hit the answer button.

“Hello?” he sighed tiredly down the receiver.

“Arthur?! Thank god! You gotta come quick!” Tilly’s panicked voice called down the phone.

“Tilly?” Arthur huffed groggily. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Dutch! We have a situation over here and he’s furious! You gotta get here quick!” Arthur frowned.

“What happened? Did he and Molly finally have the big one?” The last time they’d had a fight it ended with Molly lobbing a full bottle of Guarma Rum at Dutch’s head, which he’d barely missed with a well-timed dodge. Dutch had later soothed the situation by taking her to Tiffany’s.

“No its Micah-”

“Oh, well I’ll go back to bed then-”

“ARTHUR!”

“Ok, ok,” he sighed once more, “What’s happened?” he checked the time on his wrist watch. Four fifteen PM.

“Micah went off to look into an opportunity and have got us in a bind, Dutch ain’t happy Arthur please come over here” her voice took on a begging tone betraying how worried the young woman really was.

“Ok Tilly I’ll be right over. Just make sure the guys keep them separate for fucksake.”

“Ok, thanks Arthur!” came Tilly’s relieved voice and then the line went dead.

   Arthur threw his phone to the side and huffed tiredly, he then put his clothes back on, turned off his alarm and shut down his fan. Turning to his side table, he pulled out his hand gun and ammo, loaded the magazine into his pistol for good measure, before slipping it into the holster and attaching it to his person. If this wasn’t normal club business, then it was gang related and thus he would need some fire power in case things got messy. Gathering his phone and keys he went back out to his truck and proceeded to make his way as quickly as the speed limit would allow to the club and whatever emergency awaited him there.

   As Arthur pulled up in front of the club, he noticed the first alarm bell which was that the club was closed at four thirty pm on a Sunday. Sunday was the only day they didn’t open at twelve opting to open at two and this combined with Dutch’s love of reeling in cash made Arthur decide that the situation already didn’t look great.

“Oh Christ” he drawled in his southern accent as he killed the engine and unclipped his seatbelt roughly. He slammed his truck door shut, walked heavily to the back entrance of the club while taking the steps down to it two at a time, turned his key in the lock and pushed the door open. However, the door opened partly and then was stopped by the chain lock that had been slid into place.

“For the love of...” he began to knock loudly.

“Wh-who is it?!” Kieran’s nervous voice called from the other side of the door. Thus wearing Arthur’s patience thin.

“I’m here today to talk to you about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ.” Arthur called dryly.

There was a pause.

“We’re already… Presbyterian” came Kieran’s unsure voice.

“It’s Arthur ya dumb ass!” he pounded on the door once more for affect which had the desired outcome as the chain was released and it swung open to reveal Abigail’s worried face.

“Just go mop the floor Kieran for god sake! Arthur, get in here!” she pulled him in by the front of his shirt and locked the door again. As soon as Arthur entered the building he heard the faint sound of Dutch yelling as Karen, Jenny, Tilly and Mary-Beth milled about going to and fro.

“Arthur!” Mary-Beth called in relief.

The other ladies gathered around him, the relief that their enforcer and third in command had come to help matters clearly showed on their faces.

“Well I was hoping it wasn’t serious but I think I’ve established we have a shit storm on our hands?” Arthur stated, straightening his shirt from Abigail’s man handling.

The girls looked to one another with expressions of worry.

“Well if that aint the understatement of the fucking year” Karen said dryly.

“Come on Arthur, you better go see Dutch” Abigail said with a frown of worry.

“Ok ladies, you just keep calm and go about with whatever job you’ve been given. Dutch’ll figure whatever this is out.” Arthur said reassuringly.

The ladies nodded in agreement and gave thanks, returning to whatever tasks they’d been given. Meanwhile Abigail led the way to the main club area, Dutch’s voice getting louder with every second.

“YOU SAID IT WAS A GOOD SCORE! YOU DIDN’T MENTION ANYTHING ABOUT THIS!” Dutch’s voice boomed.

Arthur frowned. Whatever this was, it was bad.

“What the hell did Micah do exactly?” Arthur stalked after her. But when they arrived in the club area, all became apparent. “Ho-ly fuck.” Arthur uttered.

Guns. Guns everywhere.

 

…

 

   It was a strange scene for a strip club. Micah and Dutch were standing off against one another with Hosea acting as the voice of reason between them.  Members of the gang; Susan, Bill, Javier, John, Lenny, Charles, Uncle and Sean were all either sat on surrounding chairs and tables or walking about with nervous energy. In the middle of the room were about ten rectangular crates with assault rifles in them, if the few open crates on the bar were anything to go by.

Arthur’s heart started pounding.

“For fucksake Micah, what the hell kind of scheme have you dragged us into?!” Arthur called out, cutting off any other vitriol that Dutch was about to hurl at the scraggly blonde.

“Ain’t nothin’ to concern yourself with cowpoke” Micah sneered and opened his mouth to continue throwing some vitriol of his own, however, Hosea cut him off.

“Micah informed Dutch of a lead he had on a lucrative shipment that was coming in from Mexico but neglected to inform us it was in firearms-”

“IF THAT ISN’T AN UNDERSTATEMENT!” Dutch bellowed.

“And so,” Hosea continued calmly, holding a placating hand up to Dutch’s chest “Dutch had told him to take Bill and Javier with him to investigate and do business if the deal looked good.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot” Bill said dryly around the cigarette in his mouth.

“And now we have ten crates of M16’s, all obtained illegally and most likely stolen from across the border.” Hosea finished with a frown.

   Arthur looked around him at the numerous crates and something clicked in his mind from a few nights ago, the same night he met Joyce. Micah had gone to talk to Dutch about some “business”.

“Jesus Christ, is THIS” he gestured around him at the crates “the business you had to talk to Dutch about the other night?” he rubbed his face in agitated exasperation.

“I don’t get the big deal” Micah said in his would be placating voice, “How were we to know it was a firearm deal we were walking into-”

“You would have if you’d done your job properly” Hosea said evenly with a frown.

Micah’s expression soured but he carried on in his would be cooing way.

“We made the best of a bad situation, at least we didn’t come back empty handed. We can sell these on easy, we just have to find the right buyer. Better yet trade ‘em for something like cocaine.”

“Or heroin.” Javier chirped up.

“Nah it’s all about the college kids and ecstasy” Sean quipped.

“NOBODY is getting any kind of drugs ya bunch of dumb asses” Arthur interrupted firmly. “We’re in enough shit without adding illegal substances into the mix.”

“What shit are you talking pretty boy?” Micah sneered.

“I think he’s referring to the fifty years to life for gun trafficking and the five to forty years for trafficking drugs.” Susan offered coldly, she was the ultimate encyclopaedia concerning the law. “Which is the exact reason why we don’t deal in this kind of shit.” she gestured to the crates and scowled at Micah. “Our forte is scams and dealing in high price items that don’t carry such a lengthy sentence and won’t implicate us if used in another crime.”

“Well maybe that’s why we’re stuck in this chicken shit excuse of a money maker” Micah spat at Susan, not taking kindly to a woman putting him in his place.

Dutch scowled.

“Tensions are high Bell, so I’ll let that slide for now.” Dutch said venomously. “You’ve only been with us as few months, you weren’t with us before we got this place so you wouldn’t understand what it took to mostly legitimatise ourselves.”

   Arthur thought with a harsh sigh. It was a given that they’d never give up on their life of crime, however the whole reason they had bought the club was so that they had some sort of security and also the fact that Hosea wasn’t getting any younger. Plus a business was always a useful tool as a money launder if you had a good enough accountant at your disposal to cook the books. These days they kept to things like loan sharking, fencing illegal goods, illegal gambling, theft and the occasional con. Working at a strip club afforded the gang a semi legal way for the girls to make money as they could milk the richer clients for everything they had once they were drunk enough. After all how many married men would admit to being in a strip joint? Overall they were making their lives easier by sticking to the lower crimes that carried a smaller sentence, there was no need to die in jail serving a sentence for selling drugs when you could be in and out of county jail in months for a much smaller crime. The only drawback was that the bigger the crime the bigger the rewards, however, greed never did anyone good and the risk way outweighed the reward in this case. This didn’t matter to dear Micah as he was always spouting the need to take more risks despite refusal from Dutch and Hosea. Such risks included paying out for ten crates worth of illegally obtained assault rifles.

“Hosea isn’t getting any younger and it’s a changing world.” Dutch continued “We made our money, we took our cuts and besides the work we currently do plus the occasional deal we stick as close to the straight and narrow as possible to avoid a life behind bars. What doesn’t help that is having near thirty assault rifles in your possession!” Dutch gestured at the crates wildly. Micah opened his mouth to retort with a sneer but Hosea beat him to the punch.

“Ok gentlemen, we’ve put our points across, that doesn’t change our current situation. First things first, the club isn’t going to open today anytime soon so we’ll have to call the girls again and update em. Tell em a water main burst and we’re trying to open for tomorrow.”

Dutch murmured in agreement.

“As for the crates, well, they can’t stay here. What if a health inspector does a surprise visit? They gotta go.” Dutch stated. He seemed to be over his initial shock at their predicament and was back to being their unbending leader. “We’ll put em in the old storage locker, they won’t ask questions.” The gang had always done business with the owner of a storage company who was as on the same side of the law as them. He had a strict don’t ask don’t tell policy, as long as he got his hush money. “And in the meantime, I think Trelawney is the best person to go for leads on who’s looking to buy some guns. The quicker we move these the better.”

“Well that’s all well and good Dutch, but we aren’t exactly experienced gun dealers. What do we do if we get ourselves a buyer?” Sean piped up. The rest of the group shifting and murmuring in agreement.

“True we’ve never done this before but they won’t know that will they? We fake it til we make it gentlemen. Trust me, it’s the only way outta this if we want a return on our investment. I trust you all would like your cut from this?”

More murmuring in agreement.

“That’s what I thought” Dutch smirked. “Abigail, could you kindly call our dear ladies and inform them their services will not be needed tonight?” Abigail nodded and left to do her task, frowning in concern the whole while. “Bill, John, Javier, Sean and Micah. Bring the clubs utility van around back and start filling her up with every single damn crate. CAREFULLY. Hosea and Arthur come with me. Everyone else, hold down the fort.” As everyone else set about doing their tasks Arthur and Hosea followed Dutch into his office, although, Arthur didn’t miss the jealous glare that Micah threw his and Hosea’s way.

…

“Ok Trelawney, perfect, you put your feelers out and see what you can come up with for a buyer. Call me when you have something. Bye.” Dutch put the phone down with a clatter. He was seated behind the trusty oak desk in his office while Hosea sat opposite him. Arthur had chosen to lean against a wall.

“Nothing to do now but wait” Hosea said simply.

“True enough” Dutch rubbed his forehead with a sigh. “I just can’t believe that idiot. Going into a deal like that, he knows the rules here.”

Hosea and Arthur shared a look.

“Well,” Hosea began, “to be frank, he’s a loose cannon, I don’t deny he gets the job done but he sure as hell can make it harder. You might have to pull the reins with him. We don’t want another Mac and Davey on our hands” Arthur noted his words were spoken evenly and chosen deliberately.

   Mac and Davey, or the Callander Brothers as they were more commonly known around Valentine, were members of the gang up until a few months ago. Arthur had seen eighteen years of life on the other side of the law but never had he met anyone as horrific as that pair of lowlifes. Volatile, violent, borderline psychopathic and just down right mean spirited the pair could flip at the smallest slight. The brothers were warned by Dutch time and time again to tone it down during operations, their uncontrolled nature causing problems left and right but to no avail. One night the pair of them were in some dive bar on the outskirts of town when all hell broke loose, no one knew the full story but enough was made known. A group of men had insulted the pair and the ensuing brawl escalated to the point that Mac had beaten a man to death while Davey had shot two of the victim’s friends, wounding them, before they were taken down themselves. Mac was now serving a life sentence on death row while Davey went down for manslaughter, however, word got out that Davey was stabbed to death while in prison. Ironically, it was their personal life rather than their professional life that saw their downfall.

“Aw now hold on a second, the Callander boys were reckless I can’t deny, but Micah ain’t as bad as all that. He’s been a fool, I’ll admit, but he hasn’t knifed someone to death in a room full of witnesses”

 _“Well you sure changed your tune”_ Arthur thought exasperatedly.

“True enough Dutch, but I would still keep it in mind” Hosea said evenly.

Arthur frowned, now was as any time to bring it up.

“Yeah and err, I didn’t know when was best to mention it but some of the girls have been talking about him and they, well. They don’t feel safe some nights when he’s working. He’s made some passes at them and it’s made them uncomfortable.”

Dutch let out a bark of laughter.

“Well he wouldn’t be the first one of us to try it on with the dancers let’s face it.” Dutch admitted, and Arthur had to agree that it was true. “But, the girls can be rest assured that if ANY of us men stepped over the line with them, the perpetrator would be out of here for good.”

“Glad to hear it” Arthur responded simply. If Dutch didn’t help Micah mind his P’s and Q’s with the girls then Arthur was happy to make sure he did.

“Back to the matter at hand though.” Dutch started as he rested one foot atop the polished surface of his desk. “We’ve set everything in motion, now we just have to wait for Trelawney to get back to us.”

There came a knock on the door.

“Come on in” Dutch called through the door which opened to reveal Bills large frame.

“All the crates are loaded boss.” He indicated behind him with his thumb. “We’re all ready to head over whenever you need us to.”

“No, no not all of you. We’ll attract enough attention already. Javier, Micah and you go. Take this.” He handed an envelope over to him which he accepted, it was no doubt holding a bribe for the owner of the storage lockers. “And give it to Mr Jacobs.” He sat up straight in his chair to emphasise his next words. “Be CAREFUL. Be SMART. DO NOT attract attention ya hear me?”

“Got it boss.” And with that Bill left the room.

“Need me to go with them?” Arthur questioned, ever ready to help out his father and mentor, but then Hosea gave a strong chesty cough. Dutch and Arthur gave one another a sideways glance of worry, Hosea was recently getting over a nasty case of bronchitis and had thus been ordered by Dutch to stay at home and keep himself cosy. In fact the only reason he was at the club tonight was because it was gang related.

“Do you need a ride home Hosea?” Dutch asked.

“It would be much appreciated, thank you.” He replied, catching his breath.

“Arthur will take you home, there’s not much else for us to do anyway until Trelawney gets back to me. I’ll stay here, wait for his response just in case.”

“Fair enough” Hosea agreed standing from his chair. “Before we go I have to talk to young Lenny, he mentioned he wanted to discuss something with me.”

“Ok I’ll hang around until you’re finished.” Arthur said, standing away from the wall and opening the office door.

   They bid their goodbyes and exited Dutch’s office, Arthur allowing Hosea to walk ahead of him, but as he passed the general office next door he found the door open and Abigail seated head in hands at the room’s lone desk. The clunky red office telephone was sat on the desk next to her elbows and the workers telephone book was beneath her face.

“How’s it going Abigail?” Arthur offered. She raised her head from her hands and looked at him tiredly.

“Just peachy Arthur. I called em all, no one will be coming into work” She closed the telephone book with finality.

“Good work,” he took in her tired eyes with a frown. “Try not to worry, ok? You know Dutch, he’s never steered us wrong”

She sighed slowly. There was a lot of sighing today he noted.

“I guess so, but Arthur this is big. Perhaps bigger than us. I can’t be raising Jack alone because his father got locked up or god forbid both of us locked up.”

“Now just stop right there. That ain’t gonna happen. I wouldn’t let it. Dutch wouldn’t let it. And god forbid if something happened I’d make sure Jack was taken care of” he said reassuringly to which she scoffed in response.

“Well you are his favourite nurse maid” she smiled wryly then rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Thanks Arthur, I just sometimes think” she paused to mull her words over but must’ve thought better of it. “Never mind” she shook her head, her eyes going to a luminous yellow post-it-note on the table next to her. “Oh yeah Arthur, I called Joyce.” This piqued Arthur’s attention.

“Yeah?” he drawled.

“Yeah and err, she told me to give you this” She handed him the post-it-note.

“What’s this?” he questioned opening the paper, inside was a phone number.

“Her phone number” she raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Said she meant to give it to you earlier but forgot.” Arthur huffed a laugh.

“Thanks Abby” he pocketed the post-it with a mental note to add it to his phone when he got home. Abby watched on with a small smile.

“So I take it the date went well?”

“I dunno if I’d call it a date” he rubbed the back of his head. “But yeah, it did. More thanks to you and your pep talk than anything else” He gave her a small smile. “Thanks”

“Oh it aint nothin’.” She placed the phone book back into the desk drawer where it belonged. “I’m always here to knock the sense back into you” He laughed quietly in response.

“Well thank god for that.” He checked his watch. “Well I gotta get Hosea home, catch you later.”

“See ya Arthur”

Arthur paused in the doorway and then turned back to Abigail.

“Hold on, Joyce doesn’t work week days, you didn’t need to call her.”

“Oh? My mistake” she smiled coyly to which he raised a brow and narrowed his eyes in question. “Oh alright, I was curious about her so I rang her. Then she mentioned in passing she forgot to pass her number along so I said I would.”

“Ok, well as long as you weren’t interfering” he responded sarcastically and turned to leave.

“Oh and Arthur,” he looked back to her. “You’re right, she IS sweet” she smiled. He nodded in response with a smile of his own and made his way through the back door of the club and up the stairs to the parking lot. When he reached the top he found Hosea talking to young Lenny and hung back so they could finish their conversation.

“You really think so?” Lenny questioned.

“Of course, you’re a smart young man. You could be a lawyer or a doctor one day.”

“I dunno about that” he shook his head, “I don’t see college on the horizon, not now anyway, I gotta look after my family.”

“Never say never son” he patted him on the shoulder in a fatherly like way. “You look after yourself Lenny, I’ll talk to Dutch about getting you some more hours.”

“Thanks Hosea” he responded and made his way down the stairs to the club, passing Arthur in the process “Hey Arthur”.

“Lenny” Arthur returned and watched as Lenny disappeared down the steps and back into the club, the door swinging shut with a clatter behind him. Arthur continued on his way to stand with Hosea.

“You ready son?” Hosea questioned.

“Yeah” Arthur paused, “everything alright with the kid?” he gestured in the direction Lenny left.

“Yes and no” Hosea frowned, “his dads giving his mother trouble again. He came to the house high on god knows what and started threatening her and the kids for money, that’s why he missed his shift the other night.”

“Ah right” Arthur frowned, “father of the year like my own.” He said coldly.

“That ain’t all. He’s giving up school. Says he can’t afford college at this rate and needs to get to work earning money as man of the house. Kids sharp as a tack and his hearts in the right place but he‘s making a huge mistake.”

“Maybe Dutch can work something out for him?” Arthur led the way to his truck.

“Hopefully” Hosea shook his head “I just hate to see a young man like that waste his talents.” He opened the door to Arthur’s truck and sat himself down in the passenger seat while Arthur seated himself in the drivers. Once their seatbelts were snapped into place Arthur paused with a frown and leant forward to rest his forearms on his steering wheel.

“Something on your mind son?” Hosea asked with a frown of his own.

“I dunno” he started with a shrug “it’s just, why would Dutch let Micah take a chance on a hunch? It’s obvious he didn’t have much to go on and yet he sent them off like the three amigos to do business? And better yet Bill and Javier just went along with whatever deal went on? It just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Hmmm” Hosea seemed to weigh up something in his mind for a moment and then continued. “No one else knows about this except Dutch and myself but,” and don’t tell anyone else, the unspoken trust was in every syllable, and Arthur would never tell another soul. “I had a hunch of my own.” Piquing Arthur’s interest, the younger man ceased his leaning and sat back in his chair to look at his father.

“Yeah?” Arthur signalled to continue.

“Well our accountant, Strauss, gave me a tip off from one of his broker clients. He told him that a certain stock for some computer company was set to sky rocket after a business deal and that last week was the time to buy low to sell high. I did some digging and it all seemed a sure thing with the original investment being within budget for the gang, so I told Dutch.”

“Huh” Arthur breathed with a frown, “So what did Dutch say?”

“He said he didn’t want to waste his time or money on something that wasn’t a sure thing” he shook his head gently and sighed. “The other day the stock sky rocketed in price.”

Arthur whistled, “I bet Dutch was spitting feathers.”

Hosea sighed again and rubbed his eyes, “I didn’t tell him. Sometimes… I don’t think he understands the world is different than it was twenty years ago. No matter how much he tries to spout that we have to change the way we do business.”

“Hmm,” Arthur let this new found information sink in.

“The sooner this situation is taken care of the better is all I can say” Hosea said with finality.

“No kidding, I hope Trelawney finds someone quick” he entered the key into the ignition and stared the truck, making his way out of the car park and down the road. The pair were silent for a long while, and then.

“Arthur I don’t want to pry, but there was gossip that you and one of the dancers were seeing each other?”

Arthur had secretly waited for this.

“Yeah it’s true” Arthur said, smoothly turning the steering wheel to navigate a corner. “The new girl, Joyce”

“I see” he said evenly.

“Oh come on Hosea, I’ve had the third degree from nearly the whole gang. If you got something to say, say it.” Arthur said slightly exasperatedly to which Hosea chuckled to himself.

“No third degree here son, just wanted to check if it were true. I wasn’t here when she was auditioned ya see”

“Of course” Arthur said simply. “How’re you feeling now by the way? I didn’t get a chance to ask earlier”

“I’m fine enough son don’t you worry. I’m not buried yet”

“Glad to hear it” He said empathetically. Arthur wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him just yet. “And as for my love life, I think you’d like her.”

“Well I’m glad you think so.” Arthur could feel Hosea’s eyes upon him as he drove.

“If,” Arthur paused for a moment to mull over his words, glancing at Hosea for a second and then returning his eyes to the road. “If you’re worried for me, please, don’t be.”

“I’d be lying if a part of me wasn’t, but I’m more curious about your lady friend if she could pique your interest.” Hosea replied honestly. Arthur meanwhile had arrived at Hosea’s house and parked his truck in the driveway. “But all in all son, you deserve some happiness. I’m glad you’re taking a chance, never thought I’d see the day”

“Well it’s early days yet but here’s hoping.” Arthur shrugged. “I’ll arrange a meeting with you, when, or if, we know each other better.”

“Of course son. You get home and rest. You’re probably gonna need it.” He embraced Arthur with a pat on his back and then Hosea made his way inside his home.

   Arthur pulled out of the driveway and made his way back to his apartment with a much less intense ride than the one he took to the club earlier. Once he got through the door he decided on a shower and to try and get some sleep as Hosea advised. After removing the magazine from his handgun and storing it safely in its rightful place he stripped his clothes off leaving them on the bedroom floor to deal with later and entered his shower, allowing the waves of water to hit his head, almost massaging away the impending headache that threatened to erupt. Ten minutes later he re-entered his bedroom wearing a towel wrapped around his waist and picked the clothes he’d dropped on his floor, it was when he picked up his jeans he remembered that Joyce’s phone number was safely stored within the back pocket. He fished out the neon post-it-note along with his phone and sat heavily on his bed, within seconds he had her phone number stored and was just thinking on a text message to send Joyce when he had a message alert from Dutch.

**“Trelawney found someone in Blackwater. Meet me at club tomorrow, 7PM. We’ll get straight to business. Dutch.”**

“Well that was quick at least” Arthur murmured to himself frowning. It was almost too quick for his liking but he tried to quash the bad feeling he had as he typed out a quick response promising his attendance and sent it off to Dutch. Returning to his previous thoughts about Joyce, he opened a new message to compose a text to her but then choked. What with everything that was going on maybe it was best not to bother her? What if god forbid they did get caught, they could use whatever messages he sent her as ammo to involve her in something she was innocent of. No. It was better to wait until this whole mess was taken care of. He gave a groan of frustration, throwing his phone to the side and collapsing back on his bed. He’d had enough of today.

Life was never simple for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this one, I keep worrying its not very good >.> so we're getting into the gang related stuff now and I hope it all makes sense. I made the gang less hard core as I think in this day and age if Arthur kills people like in the game there's no real coming back from that if that makes sense? I watched Goodfellas recently which helped me back up my notion of why risk a huge crime for a huge prison sentence? Anyway...
> 
> On a side note I've been going back to read a few of my fave fics on here and so sad to find they've been deleted! One of them was Antithetical by Paniic which, although it was unfinished, it really got me through a depressive period earlier this year, just wondered if anyone was sharing my pain :( rest assured this story WILL have an ending and will NEVER be deleted by me :)
> 
> Also I always use a Florence and the Machine lyric for the title of my chapters but couldn't find one this time and conceded defeat :'(


	6. The Deal

   **The Fourth Night**

 

   It was 7pm the next day when Arthur found himself back at the club with the gang. There was a nervous energy as they gathered around to await their instructions as to what part they’d play in this latest scheme. The club had been closed again for the day (for obvious reasons) and so they used the bar as their planning area. As Dutch took to the floor everyone ceased their conversations and stood to attention.

“Ok gentlemen, this is how it’s gonna to go.” Dutch began unrolling a map onto the bar top. “Trelawny has fixed us up with a buyer in Blackwater, we’re to meet them at the disused docks here,” he pointed to the area on the map “It’ll take us about two and a half hours to get there and he wants us there for eleven gentlemen. That means we leave at eight thirty EXACTLY. We take the van there with all the crates and unload, he’ll be there to act as the go between for when we meet the buyers.”

“And who’re the buyers?” John asked bluntly as he poured a drink for himself from behind the bar.

“There will be time for questions John, but it ain’t now,” Dutch replied hotly without missing a beat. Arthur could see this whole business had unsettled Dutch and that sentiment had trickled down to the rest of the gang. It was not often that they were this riled before a job but given who had set the shit storm in motion he was not surprised. The guilty party was sat on one of the tables near the bar with the look of a man who had gambled ten of his nine lives on the outcome of the deal.

“So we don’t know.” John replied as he knocked his shot back. Bill, whose intellect was more often in question than not, joined John at the bar and poured a shot of his own, much to Dutch’s vexation.

“Alright,” Arthur interrupted in an attempt to get the plan back on track, “We’ll finish that bottle and then some when this is done but for now...” He trailed off as he gestured to Dutch, whom silently nodded in thanks before clearing his throat with affected intent.

“Buyers will meet us, Trelawny and I will do the talking as John and Bill move the merchandise, they’ll want to check them after all. Arthur, Micah you’ll make sure that goes smoothly. Keep an eye out for any itchy trigger fingers.” Arthur nodded after giving Micah a cursory glance, “If we’re all happy and Trelawny is happy with the money, John and Bill will move the rest of the crates for their men to pick-up then we’re back to the bar.”  

“What about the rest of us?” Sean frowned. “I was hoping to get some action in.”

Arthur internally rolled his eyes. If Sean came along the prospect of friendly fire was greatly increased.

“I know son but we can’t have all of us turning up to an arms deal. Both sides have agreed on five people each to keep things on a level playing field” Sean frowned and seemed to be prepared to continue but Dutch cut him off, thus ending the argument. If we play our cards right we’ll be coming home with over thirty grand in cash” Javier whistled.

“Why so much? They made of gold?” he questioned.

“Trelawny came by last night to check them over and to arrange a price with the buyer. Turns out they’re illegally modified which made the price go up by a couple hundred each. That means after taking away what we bought them for we’ll end up with even more of a profit, which is exactly why I for one want this to go well” those who were disappointed at being left behind seemed to perk up at this “Those who are staying here will have their own tasks to do, we need this place in shipshape to open tomorrow. I don’t want to raise suspicion or lose any more business. As for the ones coming with me, we leave in approximately one hour and ten minutes gentlemen. Be ready.”

…

 

   Two hours and a ten minutes later exactly, the gang arrived at Blackwater’s docks which was located in the very outskirts of town and surrounded by grazing fields. Once a bustling hub for fishing in its heyday, it was sadly decommissioned when a larger docks was built a few miles down the road and as such it was mostly deserted. The area itself was made of a cemented area that spread out onto a medium sized dock with a warehouse located on it just over the water’s edge. The dock itself stretched out onto the water with small sunken fishing boats rotting away on either side while a larger disused luxury ship was located about halfway down it.

   Arthur parked the van near the door leading into the warehouse at Dutch’s behest. If they were going to be doing business inside the building then the shortest route for Bill and John to carry the crates in the better. They all stepped out of the vehicle and were taking in their surroundings when a voice called out to them.

“Gentlemen!” Trelawny called in his transatlantic accent as he walked towards them, one arm aloft in greeting while the other held a briefcase. He was always the showman and must’ve been waiting in the shadows for them to arrive.

“Trelawny” Dutch returned, “Thanks for organising this so soon.”

“Don’t mention it dear boy” he stopped to stand with them. “We’re expecting them soon so I would take this time to get your merchandise into place”

“You heard the man, go ahead and bring it into the warehouse” Bill and John made their way to the van to get to work.

“Warehouse? Oh no no Dutch, we aren’t doing business in a warehouse” Trelawny explained to which Dutch frowned.

“Then where are we doing it? Not right here surely?”

“We’ll be doing it on that” Trelawny then pointed to the decommissioned boat docked halfway down the pier. Now that Arthur could get a better look, he could see that it was one of those old fashioned gambling boats, the only difference being that it was made in the eighties and sadly left to rot in the docks.

“We’re doing business on THAT?” John exclaimed.

“Jesus Christ Josiah” Dutch groaned, “What are you thinking?”

“My dear man I have it all planned out.” He gestured at the boat with a flourish “It’s secluded, if someone wants to get the drop on you they’re going to have to try really hard and, unless they want to get wet, there’s only one exit on and off the boat.” Arthur and Dutch shared a look.

Dutch rubbed the bridge of his nose with pinched fingers.

"So let me get this straight. One way in and one way out of a potential ambush, if they're already on board and waiting they have an advantage if things go awry"

"Not to mention we're assuming they actually have five men and not two dozen." Arthur added

"B-but these gentleman are on the le-" Trelawney stopped the moment Dutch held an open hand up to silence him.

"This is a terrible idea, Dutch." Arthur groaned.

 “Well it’ll be bad for them too” Trelawny offered, raising a brow.

“Well when you put it like that” Dutch murmured.

“See! Trust me! It’s going to be fine. Just follow my lead”

   They started with getting the small rectangular crates onto the boat, Arthur took pity on John and Bill and got Micah to pitch in with him to help them. With the four of them it took only three trips to get all the guns on board the boat which consisted of three floors, two of which were gambling parlours with the third floor being an open space for people to socialise and enjoy the view. Once they’d made it onto the boat Trelawny directed them through the first double doors they met which led them to what was once the main gambling area. It consisted of a bar at one end which was flanked either side with a pair of pillars, a tarnished glass chandelier hanging in the centre of the room and poker, roulette, black jack and craps tables all in varying degrees of disrepair. Some were still standing but a few were collapsed on their sides, their green felt dimmed and worn in places. Trelawny instructed them to place the crates onto a huge poker table near the back of the room near the bar and, once all the crates were accounted for, he began to instruct them on what to do.

“They’ll come in and I’ll mediate from the get go.” He began, opening his briefcase on the same table that all the crates were located. “First I’ll count the cash with this” he lifted a note counting machine from the case and placed it on the table “and assuming it’s all legitimate and accounted for, they’ll go onto test the guns. I’ll have my own firearm on standby just in case and it would do you well not to withdraw yours. No one needs a reason to get suspicious or have an itchy trigger finger, got it?” everyone nodded in agreement, whether they actually agreed was another matter. “Should they be happy with the merchandise then we exchange cargo and get the hell out of here. How does that sound?”

“Fine with me” Dutch exclaimed smiling and shook Trelawny’s hand, they were then interrupted by footsteps coming into the room

“Ah here are the gentlemen of the hour” Trelawny grinned with his arms aloft. Five men had arrived with a zip bag presumably full of money, however as they approached their faces turned to evil frowns and Arthur knew exactly why.

 “What the feck is this?!” Hollered one of the men in a thick Irish accent as he pointed a finger at Dutch’s group. In that moment several things happened at once; Trelawny frowned and opened to his mouth to speak as if to defuse the situation, the bag of money fell to the ground, both sets of men withdrew their weapons and Arthur uttered an “Oh SHIT” and then…

“IT’S THE GODDAMN O’DRISCOLL BOYS! GET BEHIND SOMETHING!” Dutch yelled to his own group. Everyone ran for cover as the O’Driscoll’s opened fire upon them, Trelawny floundered in the moment and so Arthur yanked him with him as he dove to get behind the bar. Meanwhile Dutch ran for one of the thick pillars next to the bar and everyone else scattered, bullets whizzing past as everyone got their bearings.

   As Bill dove for his own cover behind a roulette table, a fire of bullets followed after him finding their way into the wooden rim of the table, far too close for comfort.

“Holy shit Bill! ARE YOU OK?!” Arthur yelled to the large framed man but received no response.

“You bastards! You killed BILL!” John’s voice sounded somewhere to his left.

 “Who the hell are these men?!” Trelawny exclaimed next to Arthur.

“They’re part of the O’Driscoll gang” said Arthur gritting his teeth and staying low.

“O’Driscolls?!” Trelawny exclaimed.

“Yes Josiah!” Dutch hollered as he peeked around the pillar he had taken cover behind and fired a few rounds off in the enemies’ direction. “How the hell did this happen?!”

   The O’Driscoll Boys were a gang lead by the infamous Colm O’Driscoll, an immigrant from Ireland who had arrived to America in the early 70s and proceeded to make a name for himself as a no good criminal. Dutch and he had a truce of sorts and even worked together at times but that all ended in 1989 where the two fell out drastically. Arthur wasn’t around at that time but he’d heard enough from Hosea and Grimshaw about the matter. A disagreement occurred between the two and this escalated due to the unrelated murder of Colm’s brother which was pinned on Dutch and who’s lover Annabelle was murdered in retaliation. Since then it had been all out war against both sides which, to be strictly honest, wasn’t that much of a hindrance upon the Van Der Linde gang due to the calibre of men on Colm’s side. Colm O’Driscoll seemed to believe that when it came to his gang quantity over quality was the way to go and as such his gang had plenty of members but not many brain cells to share between them.

“Well how was I supposed to kno-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Trelawny exclaimed at Arthur who was currently hunkered down and lighting a cigarette.

“I’m baking a cake Trelawny” he let out a puff of smoke. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“AH HA! They dropped the money when they took cover!” Dutch exclaimed with a grin as he peeped around the pillar he’d taken refuge behind and then proceeded to fire a few shots in the enemy’s direction.

“What the hell are you waiting for man?! WHY ARE YOU SO NON CHALENT?!” Trelawny gripped onto Arthur’s arm tightly and shook him.

“Relax Josiah” Arthur said as he shook his arm out of Trelwany’s grip. “These fellas can’t shoot for shit… unless they’re aiming for bottles” he eyed the shelf of alcohol located on the wall in front of him, a few of the bottles had been hit by stray gunfire but they mostly remained unscathed. “Jesus Christ they’re even missing those” he said dryly.

There was suddenly a groan that distinctly belonged to Bill.

“I’ll be goddamned Bill?! Are you alive?!” Dutch yelled as he fired more bullets in the direction of their enemies. There was another groan from Bill in response.

“Yeah” he huffed from behind the table “Winded myself pretty bad diving to the floor” Bill practically wheezed.

“Jesus Christ Bill!” John drawled in disbelief, from what Arthur could see he was hunkered down behind a craps table somewhere to the left of the bar.

“Fuckin’ idiot” Arthur agreed as he put the cigarette to his mouth.

“Is now the right time for that Morgan?!” Trelawny snarled, covering his head with both hands.

“Well you know something Trelawny” he responded calmly, turning the cigarette in his hand and emphasising it as he spoke “I think cigarettes where made for moments like this where you’re taking fire from a load of bastard Irish men”

“Point well-made Arthur” Dutch rolled his eyes as he reloaded his gun, “But not helpf-wait a minute, BILL!”

“Yeah?!” Bill panted still catching his breath.

“Can you see the money from there?!”

A pause.

“No I do not!” bill bellowed back hotly.

“If you see the money! GRAB IT!” Dutch ordered.

Another pause.

“Yeah of course! I’ll shove a broom up my ass and sweep as I go!” he retorted to which Dutch scowled. Arthur took another drag.

“REALLY ARTHUR!” Trelawny squarked.

“I’m waiting” Arthur puffed on his cigarette.

“FOR WHAT?!” Trelawny exploded angrily but then the bullets suddenly stopped as the O’Driscoll’s reloaded.

“For that” Arthur said. And with that he popped his head out from cover and pointed his gun above the O’Driscoll’s at the glass chandelier. He aimed at the rope holding it into place and fired a single bullet, it met its target severing the rope and making the chandelier land on two of the men with a huge crash of broken glass. It knocked them fully unconscious.

“Haha! Nice shot Arthur!” Dutch yelled as he reloaded his gun.

“YER BASTARDS!” one of the men snarled and continued firing in their direction.

“ARGH! GET OFF OF ME YOU FUCKER!” Micah spat from somewhere in front of the bar. If the sounds of struggling were anything to go by it was obvious one of the men had found Micah and tackled him.

“And here I thought you died Bell” Arthur joked as he popped his head out of cover to see if he could aid Micah from where he was taking cover. He needn’t have worried however as a shot rang out and the O’Driscoll howled in agony at the fresh bullet wound in his shoulder.

“Not so tough now are you?!” Micah yelled, punching the man in the face and knocking him unconscious.

“Micah where the hell are you?!” Dutch called out.

“Held up behind the poker table!” Micah snarled catching his breath. Dutch paused to fire a few bullets and then took cover.

“Well REDEEM yourself boy! GET THE BAG!”

“SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS DUTCH!” he yelled and fired blindly in the direction of the remaining two men.

“That should be two left” Arthur murmured, reloading his gun. Dutch hmm’d in response and cleared his throat.

“See if you can get the drop on them” Dutch whispered to which Arthur nodded. He made his way along the length of the bar on his hands and knees trying to avoid the broken glass as he went. He made it to the end of the bar and crawled on his belly to the next available place for cover which he found to be some furniture covered with a large black tarp.

“LOOK OUT MORGAN!” he heard John yell and suddenly Arthur felt a hard smack to the back of his head causing him to roll over onto his back. Once he did so he blinked back the tears of pain that had sprung to his eyes and froze in place once he saw the O’Driscoll sneering down at him, M16 in hand and pointing right at his face. He must’ve taken it from one of the crates they’d put on the table.

“This is for your trick with the chandelier, feck face” he sneered and pulled the trigger.

Except, the gun didn’t fire.

He tried again and again but the gun continued not to fire. Arthur met his eyes and grinned.

“Heh” he huffed and kicked the O’Driscoll right in the groin who howled in pain and sunk to his knee’s gagging. Arthur scrambled on top of him, grabbing him by the front of the shirt and brutally beat him in the face, a dance that he knew all too well as Dutch’s enforcer. Once he was sure he was unconscious and definitely not going to come after him Arthur let go of his shirt and let him drop to the floor, his face resembling burger meat. “ONE LEFT DUTCH!” he panted staying low and touching the back of his head for blood of which there was none. He slumped against the furniture he was aiming for originally and bumped his head against it with a metal thud. As his eyes watered in pain for the second time that night he pulled back a part of the tarp to reveal stacks of propane tanks which must have at one time been used to power a cooker of some type. “Holy shit” he breathed. There was enough there to send the entire boat up in flames if a stray bullet caught it.

“GOTCHA FUCKER!” came Micah’s voice again followed by the sound of a gunshot and pained yelling, they must’ve found the last straggler at long last. Arthur slowly got to his feet and surveyed the area, they had indeed defeated the other gang and if they knew what was good for them they’d get out of here before any cops came to investigate the noise they’d made.

“Well I have to say I was worried for a moment there” Dutch laughed, scooping up the money bag at long last. “But it all worked out in the end, I almost forgive you Josiah” Trelawny held his hands up in response.

“Dear man if I’d know they were O’Driscoll’s I would never have made the deal.”

As they continued to argue Arthur walked over to the crates and found the open one that the O’Driscoll must’ve pinched the M16 from. He calmly loaded it and aimed at the bottles behind the bar.

“Arthur what are you doing?!” Dutch frowned but the gun didn’t fire.

“For fucksake” Arthur breathed, dropping the gun. “The guns are shit Dutch. Whether it was a poor job at modifying them or Micah was swindled, they don’t work.” He threw it to Dutch to inspect. “One of them tried to shoot me in the face and the same thing happened.”

“Well I’ll be goddamned” Dutch breathed looking over the gun.

“Just as well” John said checking over his gun and holstering it, “we can leave them here and make a quick get away without losing anything”

“Not so fast” Arthur held up a hand “They have ALL of our finger prints on them”

“Good point well made” Dutch frowned dropping the gun onto the poker table, “we better get them out of here gentlemen”.

“Not so fast” a voice growled behind them. One of the men that had been knocked out by the chandelier was swaying on the spot with his gun pointed directly at them.

“Now son” Dutch began, the group of them stepping backwards towards the edge of the boat. “Think hard about this”

“Oh I have” he said firmly, his eyes blinking as if they were bleary and he was trying to focus them. Arthur figured he must have a concussion from the chandelier. “I’ll have that money now if you please” he slurred slightly while the group made it slowly but surely to the edge of the boat.

“I can’t do that son” Dutch said firmly. Micah went for his gun but then the O’Driscoll frowned.

“STOP MOVING!” he yelled and fired shots off. Unfortunately the bullets missed them and veered to their left. Arthur felt his stomach drop as he realised the O’Driscoll was unknowingly firing in the direction of the pile of propane tanks, he grabbed Trelawny and John and pushed them towards the edge of the boat as he heard a low whistle. “THERES GAS! GET OVERBOARD!” he bellowed and threw himself over the side of the boat with hopefully the others following him as an explosion tore through the roof and sides of the boat.

 

…

 

“Well that’s a fucking first!” John exclaimed. The five of them had dredged themselves from the water by using the pier and were briskly making their way to their van.

“You’re telling me” Arthur said dryly. He was soaked to the bone and completely unimpressed with the events of the last half hour. “I say we got about fifteen minutes until the cops get here”

“Well if you don’t mind gentlemen I’m going to high tail it to my car. Wife’s waiting and all.” Trelawny uttered, his eyes darting in every direction.

“Yeah get on out of here, I’ll send you your money in the next day or too” Dutch waved him off with a sour face.

“Once it’s dry” Bill muttered as Trelawny scurried to wherever his car was parked.

“At least we GOT the money, looks like my idea wasn’t so bad after all” Micah said smugly and gesturing at the bag in Dutch’s hand.

“You have got to be kidding Bell, all of us coulda died in there. We’re just lucky we were against a bunch of fools that can’t shoot straight.” Arthur said hotly.

“Oh you just haven’t got it in ya to take a fucking chance pretty bo-“

“Quiet.” John said abruptly coming to a sudden halt, his right hand aloft in a would be shushing gesture as he looked around.

“Don’t shush me you little shi-“ Micah snarled but was interrupted by John.

“SHH!” John uttered continuing to look around, “What’s that sound?” The rest of the gang stopped walking as well and looked confusedly to one another but then Arthur heard it. There was a thumping sound coming from a lone car parked not far from their van, more specifically from within the trunk.

“What the hell?” Arthur frowned and made his way to the trunk.

“We haven’t got time for this shit head!” Micah spat as he made his way to the van doors but Arthur chose to ignore him. He rapt on the top of the trunk with his knuckles and the thumping paused and then increased in intensity but this time with muffled yelling.

“Jesus Christ there’s someone in there!” John exclaimed and joined Arthur in trying to prise open the trunk with their fingers but to no avail, it was definitely locked.

“Well I ain’t a man for believing in coincidence but I think we’ve found the O’Driscoll’s car” Dutch said with a frown and joined to help. “What say we ruin their evening for the second time tonight and get whoever it is out of there?”

“Jesus Chrrriiiiissstt” Micah whined.

“Just shut up and keep watch with Bill” Dutch ordered.

“I guess we could shoot the lock?” John suggested reaching for his firearm.

“It’d work but we could easily shoot them” Arthur looked around him for crowbar, they needed to get whoever it was out quick before any police turned up.

“That model should have one of those buttons that pops the trunk” Bill offered. “Hotwire it and open it that way.” The other four men looked to one another for a brief moment in silent awe at the uncharacteristic intelligence Bill had just shown.

“That’d do it” Arthur said simply as he made his way to the driver’s door and pulled out his gun, bashing out the window with a few hits with the handle of his firearm. The door finally open he crouched down under the steering wheel and got to the wires of the car, repeating the same actions he’d spent more than half his life doing.

“Hey son, this reminds me of the day we met” Dutch joked, as he hovered near Arthur keeping watch for passers-by of which there appeared to be none. Arthur huffed a laugh in response. Dutch was referring to that day eighteen years ago when Arthur was caught trying to hotwire Dutch’s car. He’d tried to run but the older man had soon caught up with him, Hosea then convinced Dutch not to turn him over.

“Heh, dunno why I thought I’d get away with it, I thought you were gonna shoot me when you finally caught me.” He finished his work and the car spluttered into life. “Here goes nothing” he muttered and pushed the trunk button, it must’ve worked as he was greeted by the sound of the trunk popping open followed by John opening it the rest of the way.

“Don’t panic no-AAARGH!” Arthur rushed to the back of the car where he saw John nursing his left eye as Micah busted a gut laughing at him. The trunk was indeed fully open and a blonde woman in a nightgown was clambering to get out, however, unfortunately for her once she hit the concrete floor and began to run she ran straight into Arthur who tried to calm her to no avail. As he put his arms around her in a bid to soothe her she lashed out at him violently as she screamed.

“Woah! WOAH! EASY! WE AIN’T WITH THOSE MEN!” Arthur exclaimed as he tried to restrain her as gently as he could. He succeeded but she continued to wriggle and yell incoherently. Dutch approached her slowly with his hands aloft in surrender.

“Miss, now miss it’s gonna be OK. We mean you NO harm.” He soothed and she seemed to calm somewhat in that she stopped her yelling and struggling but her eyes darted in every direction possible as if to realise where she was for the first time since exiting the trunk. “Come on, it’ll be ok” he soothed and she finally seemed to physically relax. “Now I don’t know why you were in the trunk so you’ll have to fill in those blanks later for us, but for now we HAVE to get out of here understand?” she panted and nodded once slowly. “Ok good, good. Can you walk?” he received another nod in response. “Ok, now let’s go.” And he began to lead the group towards their van. “Now we have a bar in Valentine, we’ll take you there and make sure you’re looked after” She began to shake violently and Arthur gently guided her as she broke down into quiet sobs.

“It’s ok miss, we’re bad men but we aren’t as bad as the men that did this to ya” he started to remove his soaked jacket to put around her to preserve her modesty. He decided something was better than nothing.

“My-my husband they” another sob. Arthur’s heart clenched.

“It’s over now miss” and he draped his coat around her shoulders. “I’m sorry its wet but I figure it’s better than nothing miss” and he led her to the front of the van where Dutch opened the door for her.

“Hang on Arthur” Dutch said with a blanket in hand and Arthur removed his coat as quickly as he’d put it there. Dutch gently draped the blanket around her shoulders “Here you go miss, you sit in the middle up here with me and Arthur” he held out his hand for her to hold as she climbed up into the front seat. “The three of you will have to go in the back I’m afraid” to which no one sneered by Micah.

   Arthur hopped into the driver’s seat and turned on the heater in an attempt to warm himself up. His clothes were sticking to him in the uncomfortable way wet fabric did and he just wanted to get back as soon as possible to get changed.

“Th-thank you” The woman croaked, surprising Arthur who looked at her. Fat tears were sliding down her face in grief and possible relief “F-for the jacket I mean. I appreciate the thought”

“It’s nothin’ Miss.” He said simply.

“Adler” she croaked again.

“Adler?” Dutch questioned, fastening his seat belt.

“Sadie Adler” she finished.

“Arthur Morgan” He replied, reversing the van out and making their way back to Valentine.

 

…

 

   At Two am Arthur found himself back at the club, he was sat at the bar nursing a beer and holding an ice pack to the bump on the back of his head with Abigail and John accompanying him. As soon as they had arrived back home Dutch had gotten the women to look after Sadie and get her something to wear. Abigail, Susan, Jenny, Karin, Tilly and Mary-Beth had rallied around the poor widow getting her some jeans, t shirt and a pair of trainer’s that were two sizes too big. Dutch had ordered Charles to get her a strong cup of coffee with a generous splash of rum to help with the shock she was under, she had stopped making noises not long after leaving Blackwater but she was still crying silently, fat tears making streaks down her grubby cheeks. After her change of clothing and a few sips of coffee she must have felt more human and so Arthur, at Dutch’s behest, had gently coaxed her to tell them what had happened to her.

   As it transpired, she and her husband Jake owned a small self-sustained farm out in the sticks near Black Water. Her home was a listed building from the 1800’s and as such was legally required to not have any modern changes made to it, coincidentally her husband was writing a book on living on an 1800s farm. As they were turning in for the night, they had heard a commotion outside and discovered that some men in two beat up cars had stumbled across their home and thought that they had valuables to steal. Her husband had bravely gone outside with his shotgun to tell them to get lost and in return they killed him in cold blood and set fire to the house. They had then found her and their leader, a fat man with a full beard, had told them to put her in the trunk of their car and have some fun with her after their task was done as an incentive to do their job well. That was the last thing she knew before John had opened the trunk for her. She had felt the car stop for a while at some point and while trying to get out she had heard Arthur tap on the trunk which she took a chance on in case she had been found by someone friendly. The rest was as known to them as it was to her.

“What do I do now?” Sadie croaked.

“Well, one things for sure, you can’t go home” Dutch murmured. “You’re welcome to stay with one of us however, the O’Driscolls, the… the men who attacked you. We’ve been warring with them for years. I won’t lie and say we’re on the right side of the law but we’re nothing like them”

“She can stay with me” Tilly offered. She was always a kind soul.

“Perfect” Dutch beamed. “And you’re welcome to work here while you get everything together, not as a dancer” he clarified hurriedly at her frown “waitressing or something behind the scenes, it’ll keep your mind off of things and you’ll be earning a wage”

“Thank you” she croaked tiredly. Her eyes were red and puffy and she seemed to be beyond the point of tears now.

“I also think… one of us should take you to the police station,” Dutch said thoughtfully.

“Are you crazy?” Arthur frowned.

“Well think about it, they think they got away with it. If she goes to the cops and tells them she heard them call themselves the O’Driscoll boys it’s another loss for them.” Dutch beamed.

“Well, it sounds like a good idea. But it should be someone who they won’t recognise.”

“I’ll do it” Jenny piped up, jaw set. What had happened to Sadie seemed to have affected her somewhat and it sounded like she wanted to do something to help her.

“Yes, yes. Great idea, you haven’t been running with us long.” Dutch said slowly, rubbing his chin with his finger. “Wait a little while longer, make sure Mrs Adler is comfortable and then when she’s ready take her over to the station.”

“No problem” Jenny said simply.

Dutch had then ordered Arthur to make sure his head was ok and then head home. That was why he was currently alternating between nursing his head and bruised knuckles with the ice pack.

“Poor woman” Abigail said sadly to which John and Arthur hummed in agreement. “I’m so glad you’re both back fine”

“Well near enough” Arthur said dryly and took a swig of beer.

“I think Sean will be grateful he didn’t go in then end” John said, taking a sip of his own drink. “Speaking of which, where is he?”

“He disappeared not long after you left, I found him sulking in his little DJ booth and watching the Simpsons.” She frowned “He was moving a bit stiff come to think of it”

“Trust him, he probably punched a wall or something” Arthur joked.

“Sounds about right” Abigail smirked and checked her wristwatch. “Speaking of childish antics, we have a little boy to pick up from the baby sitter” John and Abigail were lucky enough to live in a close knit apartment complex. Their neighbour was a kindly Greek lady who doted on little Jack and babysat for them when they both worked nights.

“Right you are” John agreed. “See you later Arthur.”

They all bid their goodbyes and left Arthur to nurse what was left of his beer when he was approached by Charles who was on his way to clear the bar.

“Arthur” Charles called to him.

“Yeah Charles?” he turned to muscular man expectantly.

“After you left a guy in a suit approached Kieran while he was taking out the trash, he left this here for you” he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a white envelope folded in half and handed it to Arthur who frowned. It was somewhat wrinkled and partly torn open. At his expression Charles continued. “Yeah sorry, I had to wrestle it out of Sean’s grasp before he read it. He gave it up after I took his legs out from under him.” Arthur smirked, so that was why Sean was moving so stiff.

“Heh, thanks Charles. Did they say who they were?” he shoved it into the pocket of his own jeans for safe keeping.

“Nah” Charles responded, picking up a cloth and beginning to wipe down the bar. “Didn’t recognise him. He just said it was from “his employer”

“Hmm” Arthur offered in response. “Well it’s lost on me. Thanks again.”

“Anytime Arthur.”

   Deciding that it was time for him to go home, Arthur finished his beer and left his now very melted ice pack in the sink. He made his way to his truck and sat in the driver’s seat to check his phone, his head throbbed when he realised he still had to text Joyce but he was just too bone tired to do so. He leant his head back against the head rest, sighing heavily as he did so, enjoying the quiet. Lifting his head and going to reach for his seat belt, it was then that he remembered the envelope that Charles had given him. He fished it out of his back pocket, flicked on the light in his car and tore the envelope open the rest of the way.

 

_Dear Arthur_

 

He closed his eyes hard against the words on the page.

“Oh fuck” he breathed harshly. He knew that handwriting but didn’t think he would ever see it again.

 

It was the handwriting of Mary Linton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have had a very hard few days so I hope this chapter is ok. I really struggled with the gunfight, I'm more at home with romantic writing so a big thank you to my boyfriend who helped me write certain parts :) We were really inspired by the film Free Fire so there's a quote or two from it ;) I may have taken some liberties with Trelawny's character for comedic effect as well. I'm glad Sadie's now in it and hope I did her story justice. Also sorry about the cliffhanger! I'm really excited for the next chapter :D


	7. So long and lost, are you missing me?

**The Fifth and Sixth days**

 

_Dear Arthur_

_I’ve written this letter a hundred times or more and I cannot get it right. It’s me. You know it’s me from the bad handwriting. I know I said when last we spoke and I was going off to get married that we would not speak again. I know I said a lot of things and I meant them. I suppose, at the time, but I am not so proud as to not speak to people who care for me, or cared for me._

_I’ve been in Valentine for a couple of months. I had some bad luck and, well, it’s a long story and not an interesting one, but I am here for now. I saw a couple of girls, or whatever the polite term is for them, that ran with you and your associates in town. I asked my chauffeur to track them down and it led me to the “establishment” where you work. I would love to see you again. If you could spare me a little of your time. I’m renting room at Chadwick Farm, a bed and breakfast just north of Valentine._

_Yours,_

_Mary Linton._

   There was near total silence between them. Only the dull thudding from the club and cars passing by in the night were heard. Arthur stared up into the night sky, the stars barely standing out against the night pollution of the city, as he leant against the brick work of the club with Abigail in her familiar position next to him; back leant against the wall, the sole of one foot resting against it. A cigarette was in her left hand and in her right was the letter from Mary that he had given to her to read. As she got further and further through it she had slowly taken to constantly flicking her thumb against end of the cigarette as if to banish the would be ash from forming before it had a chance to.

Nervous energy.

Her right hand dropped as she finished the letter and opened her mouth to speak but then closed it as soon as she had started. She swallowed hard and tried again.

“So why now?”

Arthur sighed deep.

“I don’t know” he said simply. “Your guess is as good as mine” Abigail turned her head and looked at him then.

“I thought she was married?” she handed him back the letter which he pocketed.

“So I heard… So she said” he said almost bitterly. Abigail frowned and looked to the cement beneath their feet, thumb still worrying the cigarette in her hand. In that moment Arthur gently took the cigarette from her hand and dropped it to the floor, extinguishing it with the crush of his boot. He held her hand a moment, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb in comfort and then released her.

“I know I said a lot of things and I meant them. I suppose, at the time”… What is THAT supposed to mean? She’s changed her mind? Decided to come down from her ivory tower?” He could hear the indignation and anger on his behalf building in her voice. The cigarette no longer there to take the brunt of her emotions.

“I dunno” he said simply.

“Oh Arthur” she said softly.

“What the hell do I do Abigail?”

“Well, if it were ME.” She began “I’d march down to that farm house just so I could spit in her goddamn face” She paused a moment, eyes reaching his own. “But something tells me that ain’t an option.” Arthur huffed a small laugh in response.

“Nah I reckon it ain’t.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t march to that farmhouse and find out what she wants so you can finally put it to bed.” She searched his face and her eyes softened. “That is if you want to. You have this thing with Joyce just starting, but if she wanted you back would you take her up on it?”

“I don’t know” he frowned himself.

“How’s it going with her anyway? What happened when you called her?” she gave a genuine smile

Joyce. He still had to text her but that had been railroaded somewhat by the arrival of Mary’s letter, not to mention all the excitement over the past few days. Abigail’s smile fell and she instead frowned at his silence.

“Something happen with Joyce? She not phone you back or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I haven’t actually contacted her” Abigail’s frown deepened.

“Do I have to smack you again?”

“No, no” he said quickly. She could be an angry lady. “What with everything that’s been going on, I decided to leave it and now”

“And now Miss Gillis came back into the picture” She shook her head. “Look. I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life, but Joyce is a nice girl and you could have a fresh start with her, you sure you wanna throw her away for an old flame who cut you deep?” Arthur’s head began to hurt. He had often thought of Mary Gillis, or rather Mary Linton as she was called now. He always wondered where she was and if she regretted leaving but he figured she wanted her father’s money more than him. If she came to him now and said she wanted him back however, how would he react?

“I guess I’ll know when I see her” he shrugged, god he wished he hadn’t extinguished their cigarette.

“True enough” she sighed next to him and checked her watch realising that their break was coming to an end. “Well, back into the fray then, eh?” they made their way down the stairs to the back door and through onto the club floor, Abigail going to the bar to join Charles and Arthur making his way around the club floor, the plastic covering on his security ID catching the lights from the stage as he went.

   It had been pretty quiet so far, no one had caused any trouble and the night was chugging along nicely to an end. This added to the already cheerful atmosphere among the staff which was due to the fact that the gang had seemingly gotten away with their little arms deal the other night. There was no word in any of the papers or the local news stations other than the report of a fire breaking out on board the boat due to a suspected freak accident with a leaky gas tank. When Dutch informed Arthur and Hosea about the news he had grinned like a Cheshire cat, the pair of men however had shared a knowing look and Arthur knew that Hosea agreed with him when he believed it was too good to be true and that time would tell.

   He was doing his rounds when he saw a commotion near the bar area, Arthur frowned as he recognised one of the men that seemed to be involved. He was the goodie two shoes type that sometimes passed around leaflets about the sins of stripping and had approached some of the girls about helping them get out of the life. From what he could see he had interrupted a patron who was receiving a lap dance from Amber who was now stood cross armed with a pissed off look on her face. The patron in question was in the face of the interrupter and had him by the front of his shirt with his fist brandished.

 _“This is the last goddamned thing I need”_ Arthur thought crossly. It had been a hellish few days what with the arms deal and Mary’s letter and he had had enough. He marched over to the men in his tough guy persona, ready to kick their asses out onto the curb.

“Ok gentlemen, let’s break it up. You” he gestured at the man with the leaflets “need to stop interrupting people’s fun and leave”

“We were having a good time til this prick interrupted!” the patron snarled.

“I-I was o-only trying to help you see th-the wrong you were d-doing!” the smaller man stuttered.

“Be that as it may, we’ve told you time and time again to not come in here and bother the girls and clients”.

“But if you’d only see the evil you’re do-“ But he never finished his sentence as the patron punched him in the mouth”

“I am so SICK of you Christian types thinking you’re so high and fucking mighty!” the patron bellowed going in for another punch but Arthur grabbed his hand before he could do so.

“That’s it, BOTH of you are out.” Arthur stated, his mouth a hard line. At this the patron and Amber kicked off, the patron for missing out on his lap dance and Amber for missing out on her tips.

“Why do I have to leave?!” the patron yelled as Arthur pushed them both towards the front door.

“He has to leave for causing trouble and you have to leave for punching him in the goddamn face NOW GET OUT!” He’d got them through the door and out onto the street with Amber following behind them spitting in rage. He gave one final push but the patron dug his heels in while the other man leant against the wall trying to stop his nose from bleeding.

“I AINT GOING ANYWHERE!” the patron bellowed grabbing an abandoned bottle off the curb and attempting to smash it over Arthur’s head who ducked at the last second in shock and punched him in the face.

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE!” Arthur bellowed seeing red. The patron seemed to decide when to cut his losses and hightailed it out of there while the originator of this whole problem still stood leaning against the wall. “AND YOU!” Arthur bellowed well and truly pushed over the line at the prospect of nearly being bottled, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He grabbed onto the man’s shirt and punched him a few times in the face for good measure.

“GET HIM ARTHUR!” he heard Amber squeal in delight, obviously grateful to see some retribution for her loss in tips for the evening.

   After Arthur’s last strike against the man, the man gave a mighty cough expectorating a huge glob of spit and blood across Arthur’s face who wiped it off in disgust and annoyance through gritted teeth. “I DON’T EVER WANNA SEE YOU IN HERE AGAIN GOT IT?!” but he didn’t allow the man to answer him, instead he left him to slide down onto the ground and compose himself. Arthur turned to re-enter the club, finding Amber in the doorway smiling with glee.

“Well done Arthur!... Don’t s’pose you want that lap dance instead?” she smiled in a would be seductive way which fell from her face the moment Arthur pushed by her to go back inside the club. He made his way to the back rooms to wash his face in the employee bathroom and compose himself and be thankful he wasn’t on the way to the emergency room to get stitches and shards of glass taken out of his face.

 

…

  

   At midday the following day Arthur was at the outskirts of Valentine, it was a part of the city where the town began to turn into farmlands and then further on was the great wilderness. He was currently leant on the steering wheel in his parked truck outside Chadwick Farm, the bed and breakfast Mary was currently staying in if her letter was to be believed. He didn’t work Wednesdays and knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stay away once he’d read the letter he decided to rip off the band aid and get this over with while he had the free time. So far he’d been sat there for twenty minutes, leaning on his steering wheel and staring at the neatly painted front porch of the building in front of him. Finally he heaved a sigh and purposefully exited the vehicle, closing the door behind him and marching up the steps and to the front door. Pausing for a moment he ignored the quell of nerves in his gut and knocked smartly on the front door with his bruised knuckles. As he waited for someone to answer the door his feet followed the anxiety he felt and he turned slowly to look over the farmland facing the front of the house. At the sound of the door opening he turned expectantly to see a kind faced middle aged woman in an apron covered in flour.

“Can I help you?” she pressed gently at his silence.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you ma’am.” He suddenly felt his nerves quell again and put his hands together in front of him for a moment, clearing his throat as he did so. “Is erm, is Mrs Linton in?”

“I’ll go see for you hon” she said with a gentle smile that reached her eyes, the door closing behind her. He stretched his fingers as he paced in front of the door, the bruises on his knuckles pinching as he did so, the pain a pleasant distraction. And then the door opened and there she was. Miss Mary Gillis herself.

   The last sixteen years had been kind to her. Her face and body had filled out to one that belonged to a woman rather than a teen entering adulthood. Her hair was darker and was now worn up in a chignon rather than down and tumbling across her shoulders. The skin on her face was showing gentle signs of age with the beginnings of wrinkles at her eyes and forehead. The mole on her face, once a light brown, had become more prominent. But overall Arthur had to admit she was still as beautiful as the day he had met her.

   She paused in the doorway.

“Hello Arthur” she said gently. She looked behind her for a moment and then stepped outside onto the porch, closing the door behind her softly.

“Mary” he began, “I erm” but couldn’t finish and so she took over.

“I heard that you and you’re friends were still in town, I…” her breath hitched.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Where’s what’s his name?” he said almost abruptly and regretted his tone immediately.

“Died” she said almost as abruptly, looking to the floor.

“Well I’m sorry to hear that” he offered, genuinely.

“Yeah, me too,” she said, her eyes returning to his, “happened a while ago… pneumonia”

“Sad to hear” Arthur murmured. It didn’t matter if you were six or seventy six, pneumonia didn’t discriminate when it killed you.

“Yeah” she offered. No one said anything for a moment.

“So uh,” he paused to take a breath and think his next words carefully, “well, y-y-you” he stopped to get his bearings and continued “you’re now a widow, and you’ve come back to look for me, is that it?” he gave a quizzical face and she looked away abruptly.

“No, it ain’t like that Arthur” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Oh… okay” he said dumbly and briefly looked behind him at the farmland stretching beyond the porch. Feeling nothing but confusion with a tinge of hurt.

“I…” she started but seemed unable to find the words. “My family…” she was fidgeting and truly floundering now. “I, WE need your help” he scoffed and grit his teeth for a moment in disbelief as memories surged through his mind.

   He had met Mary aged nineteen at a horse stable of all places. He had started to spend his spare time there at Hosea’s behest who insisted that it would be good for him, and it was. They had struck up conversation one day about her thoroughbred and their relationship had grown from there, to the distaste of her family. When they had begun dating her mother insisted on meeting him for, as she called it, “a spot of tea” and cake. Mary’s mother, Marjorie Gillis, was a very proud English woman who had the air of another century’s culture. She was descended from some Lord and was one of the last generations that would have spent time at a finishing school. Compared to Mary’s father who was the son of a middle class Doctor there was no mistaking where the Gillis family’s wealth came from. Arthur remembered vividly the luncheon that he had had with Mary and her mother that day. His coat had been taken by a butler at the door and he had been led into the parlour where Mary and Marjorie were seated on rococo styled sofas of dark hard wood and expensive cream upholstery. Between them gleamed a shining silver tea tray sat bearing an impressive tea service, all upon an equally expensive coffee table. She had introduced herself and then had exchanged pleasantries which had felt like an interrogation where she quipped “Oh I see”, “Oh a pity” and “mmhmmm” as he answered her questions of where he was from, what school he went to and who his parents were. When it was finished Marjorie smiled and reached for the tea pot.

“You know something, Arthur” she had said in a clipped English accent, pouring them all tea from the priceless tea service on the table between them. He could feel Mary tense to his left as if knowing what was to come as her mother poured the black tea into the milk awaiting at the bottom of the fine bone china teacup. “Sugar?” she had smiled at him, resembling a cat who had caught a mouse and was toying with it.

“No thank you ma’am” he’d responded and accepted the cup and saucer, careful not to drop it as he took a sip.

“I find that it is so very easy to go down in class” she was now stirring her sugarless tea in a way so that the teaspoon did not hit the sides and make noise, “but so very hard to come up” she smiled and raised a brow as she gently tapped the teaspoon against her cup. “How is your tea?”

The Arthur back in the present grimaced.

“You mean the family that always looked down on me?” he frowned deeply and gestured to himself “You want ME to help them?”

“It’s, Jaimie” she said earnestly. Arthur scoffed in response, turning towards the railing of the porch.

“I always liked Jaimie,” he said evenly, putting his hands upon the painted white surface of the fence “at least compared to the rest of them” there was a pause and then she came to stand next to him, placing her own hands upon the painted wood.

“He’s broken daddies heart” she said dumbly.

“Daddy has a heart?” Arthur quipped as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Don’t make me beg you, Arthur” she frowned turning to him.

“My money, my life, me…” he spoke thickly, gesturing to himself “I was never good enough”

“I’m sorry” she said sadly, and he knew that she meant it. “We need your help real bad. Little Jaimie’s joined the chelonians, that strange religious order.”

“Good for him” Arthur said with an air of detachment.

“They’re quite mad Arthur! They’ll kill him!” she pleaded. “You’re the only person he’d listen to” He breathed deep and ceased his leaning to finally look at Mary.

“So, I’m too rough to marry into your family, but it’s ok to ask me to help in saving your family?” he said coldly.

“I’m sorry,” she said with desperation, “I understand if you don’t wanna help me but,” she paused to look him in the eye “I think of you often.”

“That was a long time ago now” he breathed.

“I’m begging you Arthur”

“I say let Jaimie live his life the way he wants and not the” he gestured into the air “nightmare that his father’s dreamed up for him.” His piece said he began walking to the steps leading down to the farm and his truck.

“Jaimie’s so innocent Arthur” she said pleadingly and he stopped to look at her. “Please Arthur, will you help me?”

   Arthur looked over the landscape in front of him. It would be so easy for him to just take the remaining steps to his truck and leave. Go home and call Joyce. He’d apologise for not contacting her sooner, they might walk Java, have dinner and watch a movie. It would be all so easy.

But Jaimie.

   Jaimie was always a sweet boy, far removed from his father in every way possible. There was a large age gap between Mary and Jaimie of at least ten years, and so when he and Mary were dating the younger boy was only eleven years of age. Arthur had doted on him and taken the time to form a relationship opting to teach him to ride a horse and take him camping to the anger of Mary’s parents. The image of the young boy riding Arthur’s horse with glee and also being berated by his father to stop crying because he’d smacked him came through his mind. He breathed out slow.

 “Where is he?” her face collapsed in relief.

“Somewhere out by Carmody Dell, I think. A rancher there told me they were squatting in a nearby abandoned ranch.” Arthur looked away in thought, he knew of the ranches in that area so he had something to go by “I just want him back, Arthur” to which he nodded. “If you find him bring him here, I’ll get packed up in the meantime.” Arthur turned to leave.

“I’ll see what I can do” he made his way down the porch steps.

“I’ll owe you” she called after him, he looked behind him briefly as he walked.

“You already owe me” he returned simply as he made his way to his truck.

 

…

 

   He visited his local gun store to purchase some rock salt shells and then briefly returned home to grab his shot gun and a few other supplies he thought might come in handy such as his bandolier, binoculars and switch blade. After ensuring his gun was in good condition he loaded his bandolier with the shells and packed it all into a zip bag to avoid suspicion when loading it into his truck. Once he was sure he had everything that he’d need he drove back to the outskirts of town and followed the road to Carmody Dell, stopping off at the ranch whose owner had informed Mary of where the cultists were based. He found the rancher mending fences with his son and questioned him.

“Yeah they’re an odd bunch” he said, hauling a fence post into place and pausing to mop the sweat from his brow, “haven’t given me any problems but it doesn’t feel right having them so close. They’re about a mile down the road in that direction.” He gestured North West of his ranch “Good luck fella”.

   Arthur took his advice, following the road down and coming across the ranch in question which looked in relatively good condition despite being squatted in. As he drove closer, he spotted a group of them in white bohemian styled robes gathered in the dirt around a camp fire with who must be their leader stood gesturing a speech at them. They didn’t seem dangerous but he wasn’t going to take any chances and decided he would take his shot gun with him. As he pulled up a few metres away from them they all turned to look with wary looks on their faces. He grabbed his shotgun having already put his bandolier on after speaking with the rancher and stepped out of his truck.

“Gentlemen!” he called out to them. As soon as the words left his lips the men all jumped up as one and scattered around their would be leader. He spotted Jaimie in their midst and from the look of familiarity on his face he recognised Arthur as well.

“Shell of safety, shell of safety shell of safety” they all muttered as one.

 _“Jesus Christ almighty”_ Arthur thought, cringing internally.

Arthur approached them slowly mulling over how to go about this, they didn’t look armed and so he lowered the shotgun slightly and cleared his throat.

“Can I talk to the boy?” he gestured at Jaimie.

“Arthur?” Jaimie said in disbelief.

“Hello son, your sister is very worried. Let’s go talk about this” he gestured at the group but in response Jaimie’s facial expression hardened slightly and the leader stepped forward.

“The boy has chosen a path, sir.” he started calmly, “The path to truth” Arthur internally groaned and pressed on.

“Well, his sister just wants to speak to him, is that alright?”

“Arthur” Jaimie uttered stepping forward, the other cultists barring him with their arms either to prevent him from getting any closer to Arthur or to protect him, Arthur wasn’t sure. “I’ve chosen a path” he said sternly with a frown.

“The boy has chosen a path, he’s chosen safety” the cult leader smirked. “What path have you chosen sir?” Arthur’s patience wore thin.

“I don’t care about this nonsense” he uttered gesturing at them with his hand. “Just let me speak to the boy, his sister is worried sick.” the cultists gathered around Jaimie at his words.

“Are you always this negative and antagonistic sir?” the leader questioned condescendingly, wearing down on Arthurs nerves.

“Only when dealing with idiots” Arthur retorted coldly, gritting his teeth.

“The boy has chosen a higher path” The cult leader crossed his arms in response “A path to paradise and truth” Arthur lost his patience, it was obvious that the leader was nothing but a conman.

_“Oh fuck this.”_

He took three marched steps and punched the leader straight in the face who fell over backwards out cold. Arthur shook his hand as he turned to Jaimie, the bruises on his knuckles from the recent beatings he’d handed out screaming in displeasure.

“That’s enough Arthur!” Jaimie yelled, the other cultists screaming and running in all directions away from the two of them.

“Jaimie! This is crap!” Arthur gestured at the leader passed out in the dirt as he closed the gap between him and Jaimie. “You’re better than this!”

“Better than what?! Better than wanting paradise?!” he hollered back, stepping away from Arthur.

“Better than thinking these fools know a damn thing about paradise! Now let me take you home” he almost pleaded.

“You’re a sad man Arthur!” Jaimie spat. “You’re a real sad man!”

“Sure” Arthur rolled his eyes, “but come home, Mary’s worried”

“NO! NOT A CHANCE!” Jaimie bellowed in desperation and anger.

“Come on kid, how’re you gonna live the rest of your life? with them here? Squatting?” He could tell the younger man was at the end of his rope, he’d seen it in himself eighteen years ago when he decided to steal Dutch’s car.

“They’re my friends!” he said desperately, but from the sound of his voice he didn’t believe it himself. “You, you come out of nowhere after all these years and just think you can tell me what to do?! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!” Arthur sighed, the bruise at the back of his head throbbing.

“Come on kid, we can talk about it just let me take you home”

“Please Arthur just, LEAVE!” the boy began to tear up in frustration “I’m a man now! I found something, a calling!”

“You’re just a kid!” Arthur bellowed back “you dunno what’s good for you!” Jaimie’s eyes turned to daggers.

“I’m not taking advice from you! You’re nothing but a criminal! You leave me alone!” he pulled a handgun from the suede bag at his side “I’M WARNING YOU!”

“Oh Jesus Christ” Arthur breathed, “Jaimie, put down the gun” he said steadily, gripping his shotgun. He’d give him a round of rocksalt if he had to, it wouldn’t kill him but it’d fucking hurt that’s for sure.

“LEAVE. ME. ALONE!” he screeched, hot tears running down his red cheeks. The boy was at the end of his tether.

“Please kid” Arthur said beseechingly. “Put that gun down” he raised his left arm holding the gun in a calming gesture while his right hand stealthily pulled the switchblade from his pocket.

“I WARN YOU ARTHUR!” Jaimie started to raise the gun to his head “I’m gonna, I’ll…” he spluttered.

“Come on kid, just calm down” Arthur said, his heart pounding in his ears.

“I DON’T WANT TO LIVE ANYMORE!” Jaimie finished on a cry which turned into sobs that wracked his entire body, all the while his hand till raising the gun. ”JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” he ended on a hiccup.

Arthur took this moment to expertly throw his knife at the hand Jaimie was using to hold the gun, it met its target causing Jaimie to cry out in pain and drop the gun to the floor. He howled and grasped his injured hand, Arthur rushed forward to pick up his knife and the gun, making sure to empty it of ammo.

“Ok, its ok now. Try to calm yourself” Arthur said in relief, he was glad to see the knife had only clipped his fingers and that the cut was minor. “Let’s go see your sister, we can mend that in my truck.” He gestured to Jaimie’s hand which was bleeding slightly. He stared at Arthur and then suddenly wrapped his arms around the older man in a bear hug.

“Ok.” He said in a way reminiscent of a small child. Arthur smiled exasperatedly, not wanting to admit how relieved he was and patted the younger man on the back. “Okay.”

“It’s ok kid.” Arthur said steadily. “It’s ok, I’ve been in your shoes before”

“Have I been an idiot Arthur?” Jaimie hiccupped and Arthur released him.

“I dunno son” he said honestly “I don’t know enough to give an opinion” he gestured the way to his truck and guided Jaimie with an arm around his back. “But one thing I do know is, there ain’t no shame in looking for something better.” He thought briefly of Joyce but tried to put it aside for now. After a short while they arrived at his truck, Arthur opened the passenger side for Jaimie and then made his way to the driver’s seat.

“I’ve missed you Arthur,” Jaimie said sadly as he sat in his seat, Arthur busied himself unloading his gun and packing all of his supplies back into the bag he’d brought with him. “Are you and Mary sweet on one another again?” It was an innocent enough question that brought Arthur to a temporary standstill, his hands hovering over the zip to his bag.

“No,” he breathed. “That’s all in the past now, son” and with that he zipped the bag, put it in the backseat and grabbed his first aid kit he kept in his truck as a precaution. He sat in the driver’s seat and patched up Jaimie’s hand which only needed cleaning and a single plaster. “It looks ok, I just nicked you is all” he said simply and put his seat belt on, Jaimie doing the same.

   Five minutes later as they were driving calmly down the dirt roads back to Valentine Jaimie sighed, he had his elbow leaning on the open window with head in hand watching the landscape pass him by. “Well, this wasn’t how I thought today would work out.”

“Yeah” Arthur agreed. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you, you were just a kid” he sighed himself “and didn’t try to kill yourself”

“Yeah… I remember you teaching me how to ride your and Mary’s horses” he said quietly. Arthur glanced at him and caught the forlorn look upon his face.

“Yeah, I did” He scrubbed his face and sighed “What the hell happened Jaimie?” he asked somberly.

“A-all father kept saying was “You won’t amount to anything”, “You’re not enough of a man” I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to get away.”

“Yeah” Arthur murmured, “I had the same treatment from him myself” he paused to navigate a windy piece of road. “So how do the Chelonians come into this?”

“They, they were outside my university with leaflets. They were…. Nice, decent. I just wanted to believe that there was something good coming my way…” he trailed off.

“Please tell me you didn’t give them any money?” There was a pause. “Jaimie?!”

“We-well of course I did! They rely on charitable donations!”

“Jesus Jaimie, come on!” he gripped the wheel hard for a moment.

“I know” he said despondently and Arthur took pity on him.

“Look, forgive me for saying this but your father is a bully and a coward, don’t listen to him.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him like that!” Jaimie spat, hackles raised.

“Well I’m sorry, what do you want me to say? That he’s a good father? A nice man?”

“He won’t be happy I saw you” he said, covering his eyes in frustration.

“Heh,” Arthur gestured a palm at him “please send him my WORST regards”

“Urgh he’s right though, I’m not good at ANYTHING.”

“Aw come on kid, that ain’t true. Figure out something you like and go for it, it just takes an interest. This is the reason people go to college, to find themselves. And Hell it’ll get you away from your father for four years, right?” Jaimie seemed to weigh up his words.

“Well by that account you must really love robbing and hurting people?” Arthur sighed.

“I only hurt people to stop them from killing themselves” he responded dryly.

“My father told me what you do” he said stiffly, his eyes returning to the window.

“Yeah I bet he did” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Do you still run with Dutch and that other fella?”

“Yeah… we own a club now, Strawberries…” he paused, then gestured a finger at him “I don’t wanna ever see you in it, understand? It’s got nothing good for you there” They were shortly arriving at Chadwick Farm.

“Ok then… You get married?”

“Nah…” he thought sadly. “As for Dutch and Hosea, they were before I met em but they passed away.” He said simply.

“Shit… Maybe Mary made the right choice.” Jaimie murmured thoughtlessly.

“Yeah kid, she probably did” he said slowly.

“So are you two getting back together?”

“I told you NO. She just asked me for a favour, that’s all”

“…You know Barry Linton’s dead? Pneumonia.” Jaimie said matter of factly.

“I know kid, I know” he said simply as he pulled up outside the farm next to an expensive town car that could only belong to Mary if the chauffer in the front seat was anything to go by. “She’ll be waiting inside” he unclipped his seat belt and stepped out of the car, Jaimie following him.

“Arthur!” Jaimie uttered suddenly. Arthur turned and looked at him expectantly. “You’re right. I-I will go back to college. At least father won’t be there”

“Glad to hear it kid” Arthur nodded.

 _“Well at least I helped somehow”_ Arthur thought evenly as he led the way to the front door, placing a hand on Jaimie’s shoulder. He knocked smartly on the wooden door for the second time that day, his knuckles screaming in disapproval. He heard footsteps and then Mary opened the door, her face collapsing into relief when her eyes fell on Jaimie.

“Jaimie!” she threw her arms around him tightly. “I was so worried!”

“I’m sorry Mary” he said quietly.

“Please, please come home. Daddy’s…” she faltered. “Daddy’s been very sad” she offered lamely. At her words Jaimie stepped out of her hold abruptly.

“Father wouldn’t know sadness if it bit him on the ass” He said coldly.

“Jaimie!” Mary frowned but could find no words to argue.

“I’ll come home for you though” He looked at Arthur, “I’m going back to school, Arthur convinced me” the ghost of a smile lit up Mary’s face.

“Ok, ok then.” She nodded, “I think that’s a good idea. We’ll talk more when we’re home” She collected a luggage bag from inside the doorway to the farm and stepped outside, closing the door behind her. “I’ve checked out, let’s go home. And Arthur, thank you” she extended her hand for him to shake but instead Arthur gently took the bag from her and gestured to the stairs leading down from the porch.

“It was good to see you Mary.” He said simply.

“And you Arthur, and you”

   They walked down to the town car whose driver stepped out and took the bag from Arthur, placing it in the trunk and went onto open the door for Jaimie. He and Mary stood awkwardly as the chauffer went to her side of the car and opened the door. She went to step into the car and then paused, turning back to Arthur.

“I’ve… You’re…” Arthur stared at her, expressionless as her eyes went from his left eye to his right and back again. “Oh you’ll never change” she deflated “I know that” and with an air of finality she ducked into the car, the chauffer closing the door behind her. Arthur stepped back and watched as the car drove away from him feeling completely empty.

   After going back to his truck, he sat in the driver’s seat and stared at the knuckles of his hands clutching the steering wheel. They were all black and purple from all the various people he’d punched in the last week; first the patron at the bar the night he’d met Joyce, then the O’Driscoll, followed by the patron and do gooder last night and then finishing with the cult leader today. His head fell back against the headrest on his seat where pain throbbed from the hit he’d taken from the O’Driscoll with the M16. His eyes went to his driver’s mirror where he could see his healing lip, also from the night he met Joyce. And all through this he figured _“Yeah. Yeah I guess it’s true that I never will change.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was very easy to write :) enjoy x
> 
> Side note: i used alot of dialogue from the game but put my own spin on it. Mainly the conversation between arthur and mary and also arthur and jaimie x


	8. I'm Not Calling You a Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update, October isn't a great month for me or my family due to the anniversary of my dads death so been a depressive few weeks. I'm back to it now and hope this one makes sense, this one is 16 pages long so enjoy x  
> Please comment with what you think so far and also what you think will happen and want to see :) x
> 
> Edit
> 
> Part of this chapter was inspired by my own experience as someone who does pole dancing for sport which leads me onto wondering how best to write about the art of the sport itself. It might be useful if people youtube some dances to get an idea as to what its like. I recommend Amy Hazel, Felix Cane and maybe just looking up the miss pole dance australia competition in general. I’ve toyed with the idea of drawing pics of moves as well :) I hope everyone enjoys the introduction of Joyce's co-worker ;)
> 
> PS. sorry guys when i originally uploaded this chapter i put it in the wrong format and it went weird i've fixed that now :)

**  A Week Exactly **

****

   The room was filled to the brim with a girl on every pole, the atmosphere stifling due to the combined body heat and added to the fact that it was another hot Texas night meant that the room’s temperature was exceptionally high. Stevie Nicks The Edge of Seventeen was booming through the speakers and the lights were exceptionally bright as the girls twirled and flung themselves around the poles giggling and flipping their hair with joy. Joyce was in her element on the pole as always, performing practiced moves that by now had to be pure instinct and muscle memory. After a complex sequence of moves she dismounted, expecting to see Arthur’s face smiling at her in gentle awe but instead she was met with the joyous face of her instructor, Bonnie, and her class mates.

“That’s my girl!” Bonnie clapped at her along with the class and then they all went back to working on the move themselves. Sometimes Joyce would rather that no one cheered, the applause reminding her too much of her life as a gymnast. To her the only thing worse than the applause were the evil eyes that would be aimed at her when she did a move not everyone else could do. In the past she’d had people turn fans off on her during boiling hot classes, girls come too close to her pole on purpose so she’d have issues inverting and smarmy comments said just loud enough for her to hear. Her general view was the same as when she was gymnast: if someone is envious of another person’s abilities then they needed to put more effort into getting better at that skill rather than into being a bitch. Joyce always hated conflict with her favourite motto being “I don’t do drama”, she perhaps could do more to stand up for herself rather than simply letting things slide but that was by the by.

“Aw man Joyce, I wish I was more like you” one of the girls said with a smile as Joyce paused to add more liquid chalk to her palms. People in her classes often joked that she was one with the pole and would probably stay up just using her big toe. Tonight was no different with cheers erupting at her from all over the room as she cheered them on in turn, but it all didn’t quite feel the same without Arthur there to applaud her.

_“Arthur… he still hasn’t called…”_

No. No she wasn’t going to think about that, especially in her happy/safe place. Her time in class was precious, here she could have fun, burn calories, destress and socialise (a skill she was still trying to get the hang of and was struggling with).

 _“Nope. Not thinking of that either”_ she thought to herself matter of factly.

 “Joooooyce?” Bonnie’s voice called from right next to her, “You alright? Ya kinda drifted off into space then” Joyce smiled in return, making sure it reached her eyes.

“I’m fine” she said too brightly, to which Bonnie raised a brow.

“Okay… Well I was saying we can add another move onto what you just did, I think you’re more than ready.”

“Great” Joyce answered with an air of competiveness and a smile that was definitely genuine this time.

   She didn’t let herself be distracted for the rest of her lesson but when it came time for everyone to pack up she wiped her hands off and checked her phone hopefully. Still nothing. Maybe she’d had it all wrong? Maybe he wasn’t interested, after all who would want her? She wasn’t as pretty or as experienced as some of the other girls or outgoing either. Maybe it would be better for Arthur if he went with that dancer Amber who was always throwing hints his way (if he and the other dancers were to be believed). And who was she?

 _“Joyce, I’m JUST Joyce”_ she thought sadly to herself.

   As her regular sense of self-loathing kicked in Bonnie approached her as everyone else filed out and said their goodbyes.

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked gently.

   Ah Bonnie; rancher’s daughter, co-worker, pole dance instructor and surrogate big sister/mother hen. After Joyce began working at Sundance, a company which sold holidays aimed at the over fifties, she had met Bonnie who worked on the desk next to hers and they’d hit it off automatically. Bonnie saw that Joyce needed a friend, coupled with the fact that Bonnie was twelve years older than her and after she slowly learnt the intricacies of Joyce’s past she became somewhat protective of the younger woman. Her family owned a ranch a few towns over and would much rather be with them but her father had insisted that she try and find a life for her own and not feel forced into going into the family business. In the end Bonnie made a deal with her father that she’d give it a few years and he’d let her come back if she hadn’t changed her mind. She was still close with her family and visited her them often, she even promised to have Joyce come with her the next time they both had time off.

“Mmmm, he still hasn’t messaged me…” Joyce said quietly, “I just feel… Well, I’ll be performing at the club later, and he’ll probably be there… I’m so embarrassed” she cringed and put a palm to her face while Bonnie frowned at her words.

“He might have just been busy?” Bonnie offered, “I know you don’t have much experience in love but don’t always think the worst.” She paused, “and if he HAS ghosted you just let me have a word with him” she smiled nastily, her expression making Joyce let out a laugh.

“I guess you’re right, but…” she trailed off.

“Buuuuuut?” Bonnie prodded.

“I’ve tried to be so confident about this,” She said increasingly deflated, “Like my counsellor said, but I’m just putting on a façade. It helped when I thought he was interested but now I just feel like a loser.”

“Oh Joycey,” Bonnie smiled gently and gave her a hug, “You had the guts to start something with him, and I’m proud of you for going for it.” She paused still holding the younger woman in a hug. “But maybe… don’t invite strange men you just met to your home, yeah? You gave me freakin’ heart palpitations when you told me that.” She laughed and released Joyce.

“Yeeeeah not my smartest moment, but I just had a good feeling about him you know?”

“Well there you go, keep following that good feeling and give him a chance when you see him next”

“I’ll try” she promised with a more genuine smile this time and started to put her leggings on over her shorts while Bonnie eyed her in contemplation.

“Sooooo while we’re here, perhaps it’s another good opportunity to ask when you’re going to sign up for the studio’s showcase next week? AND when you’re going to get qualified as an instructor?” at her words Joyce cringed. The club did a showcase every few months just for the dancers to have fun and show off a routine they’d created for their friends and family, Joyce was planning on performing and possibly inviting Arthur but the past week had knocked her confidence somewhat.

“I dunno, I was gonna sign up but I’m just not feeling it anymore. And as for being an instructor… I don’t want to turn something I use for self-care into a job…” Bonnie smiled softly at her words.

“Well you know what they say, do what you love as a job and you’ll never work a day in your life” Which Joyce had to admit was true. “You have a few days to decide if you’re gonna be in the show, just let me know by the end of the week ok?”

“Will do” Joyce replied as she picked up her uni hoodie to pull over her head, but was pretty sure she knew her decision was final.

“And good luck tonight as always” Bonnie turned to switch off the music she left playing.

“Thanks…” Joyce pulled her hoodie on “Oh! I just thought!” her head popped comically through the head hole of her top causing her hair to fluff up “Maybe he didn’t get my number from Abigail!” Bonnie stared at her phone in hand.

“You gave it to someone else to give to him?” she dead panned.

“Yeah, one of the barmaids.” Bonnie let out a sound of frustration and put her head in her hands.

“For fucksake Joycey, he probably DIDN’T get it” she laughed jovially. “Just go in there tonight and be your normal self, don’t worry yourself.”

Joyce smiled.

 

…

 

   When Arthur arrived home after his dealings with Mary and her brother he’d slumped onto his sofa for a few hours, mulling over everything and then finally grabbed his journal and wrote an entry;

_“I feel like the luckiest man alive, and I feel like a fool. That woman confuses me and plays me like a fiddle like no one else alive. I trust I will not make a god-awful fool of myself once more, but somehow I imagine I shall.”_

   Following this he’d opened a bottle of bourbon that he’d had stashed away and spent the evening drinking himself into oblivion until the early morning when he must’ve passed out on his sofa. He’d then spent the entire Thursday in an alcohol infused fog badly regretting allowing himself to finish nearly the entire bottle and now found himself on Friday feeling like hell. After the last time he’d gotten roaringly drunk he’d promised that it would be the last time, hell it was always the last time whenever he got that drunk. When he’d left for work at eight pm for the late night shift he was still in a somewhat delicate state, after all he was in his late thirties now and as such one didn’t bounce back from abusing alcohol as quickly as they did in their early twenties. And that’s how he found himself at the start of his shift; with two day old stubble, a seriously dry mouth, pounding headache, bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep, pale complexion and a severe case of irritability and dehydration. He thanked whatever god there was that his stomach had stopped feeling like he was out to sea as he sat in his car before work and popped some pain relief pills dry in the hope that they’d keep the pain in his head at bay and that the pulsing music from the club wouldn’t make it worse. He proceeded to enter the club head held high and tried not to give away that he was clearly in a delicate state, however, as he passed the bar where Abigail was serving a patron a Mai Thai her eyes met his and then took in his appearance, giving him a raised brow in question. Following this he began his shift but as he made his rounds around the club floor he could feel her worried eyes upon him every time she glanced in his direction. When it finally came time for their break at half past midnight she dragged him out back to have a word with him, knowing full well that if he was hungover to hell then the meeting with Mary had not gone well.

“Huh” Abigail breathed with a contemplative frown after he relayed everything that had transpired two days previously, cigarette balanced between her index and middle finger.

“Yeah” Arthur breathed, his eyes were closed and he was enjoying the quieter atmosphere outside away from the booming music from within the clubs walls. He glanced at Abigail’s face, a frown line between her eyes as she was lost in thought. “What do ya think?” he pressed gently.

“Hmm” she offered, fidgeting the cigarette between her fingers as she spoke. “Well, I guess you got your answer if anything.” She offered lamely. “Overall she sounds like a real piece of work who knows how to play you like a fiddle.” She paused to take a drag and the smoke exhaled from her lungs with her next words “But, I kinda can’t say that I blame her. If it was my Jack that was in trouble I’d find someone I could rely on to help me too. Just glad the poor boy is ok, I remember you saying her father is a real piece of work”

“Yeah” he sighed. Deep down he felt played but he admitted that he understood from a parent’s point of view, which was where Mary was coming from seeing as she was more a parent to her brother than their own father. When he saw it that way he couldn’t really blame her for what she asked of him, however his heart now carried yet another bruise from Miss Mary Gillis. He wilted physically at the thought.

“Jesus Arthur, just take it” Abigail took pity on his current state and offered him back the cigarette which he gladly accepted. “You clearly need this more than me” She stared up at the night sky as he took a drag. “So,” she started, “the best thing to ask is, what do YOU think?”

“Come again?”

“Well, what do you think of the situation with Mary now? I know she was always the one that got away and you tried a few times to move on but could never quite get over that peak, well, now you seemingly have more closure than before.”

   Ah the crux of the situation. In truth it was what had driven him into the arms of the bottle, the fact that he definitely had closure this time. It was over. If the fact that she had outright told him that she wasn’t there to rekindle things with him then her parting words to him did. “You’ll never change”. The combined self-loathing he felt for himself washed over him all at once at her words. The thought that he would never be good enough for her or anyone else because of his lifestyle and personal actions destroyed any hope that he held of changing that and becoming better. He wanted to be better, wanted to be worthy and wanted to be able to close the door on Mary Gillis for good, but could all that really be put to bed? At his expression Abigail continued, not wanting him to doubt himself or dwell on what could have been.

“Let’s put it this way. You’ve neither lost nor gained anything and you’re right back where you were a week ago, apart from the fact that you can now finally fully close the door on a previous girlfriend while having a young lady that you might have a future with, who you also have to explain your lack of texts to.” He inwardly groaned.

“Don’t remind me, that’s a whole other mess I wish I wasn’t hungover to hell for.” Abigail snorted with laughter at his words.

“Yeah I’d guessed that your blood was about seventy percent rum at this point” she smirked.

“Bourbon” he corrected.

“Ha! Least it wasn’t tequila again, remember the Mardi Gras party last year?”

“Christ don’t remind me” Arthur gagged, “haven’t touched the stuff since… fucking Javier bringing the strong stuff back from Mexico.” He paused wondering if he could trust her with his next words. “Don’t you go telling anyone, but I woke up on a park bench with a half-eaten burger next to me” Abigail wheezed with laughter.

“Bet you took one look at it and thought WHAT HAVE I DONE”

“Heh coulda been worse, I coulda woken up in a sty spooning a pig” Abigail cried with laughter.

“You should start a support group, make it for people who have been personally victimised by tequila”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t be alone” he said dryly. All joking aside he was nervous about what to say to Joyce when he saw her.

“Anyway” Abigail tried to control the last of her mirth, “Back to Joyce. If you want I can say I didn’t get round to giving you her number if that’ll help?” Arthur thought about it for a moment but couldn’t put the blame on Abigail when he was the one at fault.

 “Nah don’t worry about it, I’ll face the music” He said to her assuredly, causing her to stare at him as she furrowed her brow slightly.

“You gonna tell Joyce about seeing Mary?” she asked quietly as he looked away in thought. If he pretty much told Joyce that not only had he not contacted her but instead went to see his ex-fiancé at the drop of a hat then it wouldn’t sound good for him despite the facts of the matter.

“I think if I did, it’d be over…” he murmured.

   The back door opened suddenly and footsteps approached as their owner slowly made their way up the concrete steps, finally Hosea’s face peeked over the ground surrounding the stairs and peered at them with a smile.

“Abigail, Arthur, I knew I’d find you here. Mind if I borrow you for a moment son, just need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure” Arthur said evenly with a shrug as he stubbed out his cigarette. He proceeded to follow him down the steps and into Dutch’s office, who must’ve been on the club floor watching over things if the emptiness of his office was anything to go by.

“Have a seat son” Hosea gestured to one of the chairs as he leant against Dutch’s desk, Arthur sat heavily into the chair directly facing Hosea and felt very much like a young child about to receive a stern talking to from his father.

“Something wrong Hosea?” Arthur questioned, to which Hosea smiled gently at him in return.

“Well, I was gonna ask the same of you” He gestured at Arthur with a sly smile. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were a little worse for wear”

Arthur groaned inwardly.

“Here,” Hosea said simply, gently tossing a bottle of water to him. “Hydrate.” Arthur uttered a thanks as he popped open the cap and drank deeply. “Need any aspirin?” He offered, rattling a pill bottle at him but Arthur shook his head in response.

“Already had some”

“Good, good” He watched Arthur have another gulp of water. “You know, when a man drinks himself stupid it’s usually over; money, women troubles or his dog’s died” Arthur let out a breath of laughter at the latter reason, although he had to agree with it. “So which is it son? Although, seeing as you aint stupid with money and you don’t have a dog it’s safe to assume that this is about Miss Joyce?”

“It’s woman troubles, but it aint just about Joycey” Arthur muttered but didn’t continue. Hosea frowned in empathy.

“Now I know you aren’t the type to sleep around, I taught you better than that. So out with it Arthur, what’s happened? I won’t have you drinking yourself to near death again over a woman, it was hard enough to see it the last two times” he said somewhat sternly.

   Hosea was of course referring to when Mary had left him the first time fifteen years ago. He’d lost it for a few weeks and hit the bottle pretty hard, for a while he’d spend his evenings at numerous bars with members of the gang drinking himself stupid and picking fights with anyone that would have one, he didn’t mind who. It was only at Hosea’s insistence that he go back to the horse stable he’d worked at for a few months that his mood improved and he was able to find stability. The second time that he hinted at however was referring to the months after Eliza that he’d self-harmed himself through sheer guilt, it had only ended when Hosea forced him to see a counsellor to work through his pain. Thinking back to those two dark spots in his past, Arthur realised how this must look to his surrogate father and how much he must be worried. He in no way intended to go back to those ways and the more he thought about it the more he realised that he needed Hosea’s advice seeing as he was the font of common sense. He took another gulp of cool water from the bottle, followed it with a deep breath and slowly regaled the whole story starting with him meeting Joyce and ending with his foray into drinking nearly an entire bottle of bourbon on his own.

“Well I’m sad she felt the need to come back into your life just to use you, but I’m glad the door seems finally closed on that era” Hosea said simply. “But just to be clear, I don’t want you doing this anymore” he waved his hand at Arthur, “take it from someone who knows, drinking… it solves nothing son, just makes you sick. If you need to go back to see Mr Bennett then-“

“No, no it’s nothing like that Hosea” Arthur interrupted, Steve Bennett was his counsellor from a few years ago and he was nowhere near bad enough to warrant that.

“Well ok then,” Hosea stared at him for a long while, contemplating his next words. “Let me be frank here Arthur, Mrs Linton as she’s called now is full of crap-now don’t look at me like that and don’t interrupt” Arthur had scowled slightly at his words and opened his mouth to retort but closed it almost as quickly at Hosea’s words. “She says you can’t change? Well people do and you can, if only you’d use your brain a bit more son it’d be a nice change.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means” Hosea straightened his spine, “I know you take orders without complaint and like to hide behind the angry moron act but it’s a thin enough veneer” he paused to cough, his chest seemingly not quite clear of his recent sickness, “It’s time to start thinking Arthur, before it’s too late, ya get me?”

“What brought this on?” Arthur frowned as Hosea looked to the floor in thought.

“That job the other night just doesn’t sit well with me, people should’ve known better and had no business doing that job without Dutch’s and my advice. I’m just saying keep your wits about you is all, understand?”

“I understand” Arthur said with a frown, “And I agree… I can’t believe nothing came from the news about the boat fire… Something tells me this aint over” Hosea smiled slightly at him.

“See. You aren’t the moron you claim to be” Hosea paused to cross his arms, “and now onto your lady friend. I still haven’t met her but I asked around and she sounds a nice enough girl and it’s a positive step that you’re even trying. I would sort out your current misunderstanding with her before it becomes a real issue and while you’re at it stop half assing it with your own lack of self-worth and take this seriously because this could be good for you”

“Yeah and then I’ll just explain to her that I’m a criminal” Arthur said sarcastically.

“I think you should just be honest” Hosea said simply.

“Excuse me?” Arthur said incredulously.

“Don’t tell her about the gang obviously” Hosea waved his hand, “But tell her about Mary. You can’t build a relationship on a lie, trust me son. As for your… second job shall we say, you could put a lot of people in danger if you tell her about your line of work. So don’t go there just yet. And, should things get serious with her you can always back out of the gang like I did with Bessie”

“Hmmm” Arthur murmured in thought, it made sense however he couldn’t ever just abandon the gang, his family, like that for anything, “Sounds like my best option for now. Thanks for the advice”

“Anytime Arthur, and I warn you now,” his eyes narrowed slightly “I don’t wanna see you drinking like this again or I’ll place you under the mental health act myself if necessary, ya got it?”

“Duly noted” Arthur agreed and they clasped hands in a father and son like fashion.

“Good to hear, I’ll leave you be now, good luck with your lady son” Hosea offered as he stood up from the desk and Arthur rose from his chair.

“Thanks” Arthur said feeling more positive than he did half an hour ago. He left Hosea in the office and made his way down the corridor leading to the club area feeling that he now had a clearer head on how to approach Joyce. The more he thought about it the more he realised what a misunderstanding it was between them and that it could be explained away simply, he also realised that he HAD in fact been half assing it through his own self-loathing and decided to take Abigail and Hosea’s advice. Abigail’s voice from a few nights ago rang through his head, _“How bout you let her decide whether you’re worth her time, or better yet if she’s worth yours. It aint all about her ya know? As foreign a concept as it is to you. You do matter.”_ And he walked a bit taller at the memory. He had his hand on the door to the club floor when he realised a vital fact that he had forgotten after his conversation with Hosea. A feeling of self-consciousness washed over him as he realised that he was hungover and looking worse for wear before he would be having an important discussion with a would-be lover. “Oh shit” Arthur murmured rubbing his hand against his stubble and stepping away from the door, maybe he’d give himself more time to sober up and improve his appearance before seeing her near the end of their shifts. He could give her a lift home if she needed it giving them more time to catch up… he decided that this was the best course of action as he turned on his heel and made to go into the employee bathroom opposite the girls dressing room.

“Hey Arthur”

Hand on bathroom door he looked up to realise that as he had briefly been deciding what to do Joyce had come in through the back door and now stood before him with an even expression.

He screamed internally.

 

…

 

      She stood before him with her hands buried in the pockets of her light jacket and dressed in trainers, jeans and a shirt topped off with her customary backpack resting on her shoulders along with her purse.

“Hey Joycey” he said just as evenly as she had greeted him. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine” she smiled slightly but perhaps not as brightly as she normally would, “how’ve you been keeping?”

“Just fine” he said hoping not to give anything away. There was a moment of silence between then where she looked to her feet and then back up to his eyes.

“So… I just wanted check something with you,” she began, “I passed along my number to Abigail to give you an-“ She trailed off, her eyes darting between his and taking in their bloodshot appearance along with his pale complexion and the starting’s of a beard on his face, “Are you ok?” she frowned in concern and confusion, “have you been ill?”

“No I err, this is more self-inflicted if you get my meaning” the hint was there that the root of his “illness” was alcohol based.

“Oh” she said with realisation and a deeper frown, her eyes going to the floor in what Arthur read as disappointment. In him or just his answer he wasn’t sure.

 _“God dammit”_ he thought angrily at himself and decided to just dive in before he made it all worse.

“Listen Joyce, I got your number from Abigail fine it’s just…” she wilted slightly at his words and he cursed himself inwardly. “I’ve just had a lot on my plate the past few days is all, I’m really sorry” Her brow furrowed in thought and she looked at him again.

“Something tells me it wasn’t just some wonky pipes that kept you busy?”

Arthur was confused for a second and then remembered that the cover for the club being closed was a burst water main.

“Err yeah, you’re right.” He said honestly, mulling over his next words and decided that honesty was perhaps the best policy, “We had the pipes saga which lasted a few days and then I heard from an ex-girlfriend-”

 _“Honesty Morgan”_ he thought to himself harshly.

“… well, really an ex fiancé” he corrected, her eyes widened somewhat.

“I see” she said blankly, clearly unsure of how this was going to go. “So you’ve gone back to her, is that it?” she asked so calmly he could tell that she was anything but calm.

“What?” he spat suddenly, horrified that she’d think that that was the case, “No, no that’s not it at all.” She looked quizzically at him and he couldn’t blame her if she couldn’t trust or believe him, “She aint in the picture at all” he shook his head, “I’m sorry I didn’t just message you back, if I’ve given you the wrong idea that I aint interested anymore I’m sorry because believe me I am interested."

“Then what’s going on?” she frowned.

“She contacted me but I hadn’t seen her for a while, over a decade actually, and let’s just say that it was another excuse for her to use me to get something that she wanted”

“Oh” she said sadly yet still unsurely, her eyebrows furrowed in empathy, “nothing serious I hope?”

“No real harm done,” he paused to scratch at his stubble, “well other than me drinking myself stupid, but my liver should recover fine”

“Hmmm… to be honest, I’ve never had a hangover” she shrugged evenly, “So I can’t say that I know what you’re going through, but I hope it passes soon” It was just like her, Arthur thought, a sweet young thing like her hoping that he felt better when it was clearly self-inflicted and after he’d obviously made her feel like crap with his radio silence.

“Listen Joyce, we both have to work for now but when we finish together I’d really like to iron this out with you and put your mind at rest. All I can say for now is that my ex is in the past and if history serves us right we may never hear from her again for another fifteen years” Joyce’s eyes widened somewhat and she opened her mouth to respond but then paused, suddenly a contemplative smile softly took over her face and she nodded slightly.

“Ok, you have a deal” she reached out her hand and he shook it gently, later he would swear that he felt sparks from touching her soft yet calloused hand.

“Glad to hear it” he smiled in return, “I don’t deserve it, but I’m glad to hear it” She breathed a laugh, shaking her head softly as they retracted their hands.

“I better go get ready” she checked her wrist watch.

“Yeah you don’t need Miss Grimshaw breathing down your neck, believe me”

“Duly noted” she responded, causing Arthur to smile inwardly at their shared turn of phrase.

“Good luck”

“Thanks Arthur” she smiled over her shoulder as she entered the door to the girl’s dressing room.

 

…

 

   The evening had been thankfully quiet for a Friday night of revelry where patrons didn’t have to worry about work the next morning and thus could have fun without consequences the next day. By the end of his shift Arthur felt exhausted yet more at ease with his current situation and looked forward to sleeping after his discussion with Joyce. To his surprise she did two performances in the evening, wowing the crowd both times and finishing her second routine in a way that he’d never seen or imagined before. She did the move that she’d showed him in her apartment but then surprised everyone by yanking a leg over her head and releasing the other off the pole so that she ended in a contorted upside down split. He stood with Charles, John and Abigail at the bar and clapped along with them, wide eyed as the crowd went wild.

“You lucky sonofabitch…” John murmured jovially to him through gritted teeth so that Abigail wouldn’t hear him. As Arthur looked around the club he noted that some of the other girls were grinning ear to ear at her and clapping along with the customers that they were currently entertaining, Karen and Jenny standing out among them causing Arthur to smile along. It felt good to know that some of the dancers and gang members seemed to like Joyce and that she was possibly making connections with his closest co-workers. Checking his watch he found that he was five minutes late for finishing work and decided to wait for Joyce out back, passing the stage and some of the closer tables where Jenny and Amber were flirting with a few customers. He caught Joyce’s eye as she knelt to pick up the money that had been thrown to her and gave her a small thumbs up as he passed which she returned with a smile and a nod.

   While he waited for Joyce he visited the rest room and then decided to have a quick chat with Hosea before he left, just to put the older man’s mind at ease. He popped his head inside Dutch’s office to find Dutch himself reclining in his chair with Hosea sat in front of his desk, both chatting jovially. Molly was off to the side in her normal seat, head to toe in her customary designer wear and acrylic nails, nose deep in the latest issue of some fashion magazine. At the sound of the door opening everyone’s eyes went to him and Dutch raised his arms.

“Arthur!” he exclaimed, “Just the man I wanted to see!” he slapped the desk jovially with his palm “come on in son, we just saw your lady perform and wooee was I right to take her on. Hosea hadn’t seen her yet and he sure wasn’t disappointed after I bigged her up” he grinned at his second in command.

“Yeah, she sure has a talent” Hosea nodded with a gentle smile.

“Yeah” Arthur shrugged stepping into the room, “she’s an ex gymnast”

“Well that explains it” Dutch laughed. “We were just saying, maybe she could teach a few of the girls a few moves? For those who want to I mean, Karen had been saying a few of the girls wanted to learn a few things to up their game and suggested it, what do you think?”

“Oh” Arthur paused, not wanting to promise anything without asking Joyce first “Well, I can ask her I guess? She takes classes herself so she’ll definitely have tips”

“A true perfectionist” Dutch grinned, “well you ask her boy and let me know”

“Will do” Arthur nodded and was about to turn to Hosea when he beat him to the punch.

“Everything alright Arthur?” Hosea asked coolly, to which Arthur responded with a smile.

“All good thanks Hosea, just wanted to let you both know I’m heading off, goodnight”

“Night Arthur” the older men said in unison and with that Arthur made his way to wait outside the girl’s dressing room. Within five minutes Joyce came out into the hallway and smiled as she laid eyes on him.

“Ready?” She said breathlessly.

“Changed in record time?” he said jokingly.

“I’ve had a long day, I wanna eat and then relax” she said rearranging the backpack on her shoulders. “Speaking of which, I’ve been thinking you probably shouldn’t be driving, what with your current state of tiredness and…” she gestured her hand at him “hungover…ed…ness.” She paused to give him a full smile comically which he breathed a laugh at, “but I could take us to an all-night diner, get an early breakfast then take you home if you want?”

“Oh?” he questioned.

“Yeah, my gran always said a fry up breakfast was the perfect cure for a hangover in the UK”

“Is that so? Then lead the way if you have somewhere in mind?”

“Absolutely, it’s a little Diner about five minutes from here that does nothing but breakfast dishes all day. Me and a friend meet there every Thursday before we go to work, they do pancakes, bagels, omelettes… I’m drooling already” she said wistfully.

“Heh, well we’ll be there soon enough” he said jovially and led her through the corridor to the exit, they opened the back door and proceeded to make their way to the parking lot. As they came up the stairs Arthur heard the tail end of a conversation Amber was having with someone which didn’t sound flattering in the least.

“-Thinks she’s such hot shit… PUKE. Makes me SICK” she spat. At the sound of their footsteps she glanced over her shoulder at them and wrinkled her nose liked she’d smelt a bad smell. Looking past her he could see that she was having a smoke break with Jenny who gazed at Amber with a frown and then proceeded to look at him and Joyce with a more sympathetic half smile.

“Night ladies” Arthur said simply, getting the feeling that the target of Amber’s distain was the young woman standing just behind him, however if Joyce had the same inkling as him she didn’t let on and instead fell into line quietly next to him.

“Night ARTHUR” Amber said, looking away from the pair.

“Night guys” Jenny said brightly “Have a good evening”.

 _“I will never understand women”_ Arthur thought to himself, internally rolling his eyes at Amber’s obvious pettiness.

 

…

 

“Ya know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say that Amber was talking about you” Arthur said wryly as he clicked his seat belt into place. They’d gone with Joyce’s idea and left Arthur’s precious truck in the clubs carpark where he’d pick it up tomorrow morning.

“Oh? Why would that be?” she said in mock confusion “Because of that BE-AU-TI-FUL spready to the gods I did on the pole back there?” she said delightedly with a mischievous grin causing Arthur to chuckle.

“Spready to the gods? Is that what that’s called?” he asked somewhat disbelievingly.

“Well, it’s actually a Rainbow Marchenko. The spready part is more a joke within the pole community. The youtuber Ozzy Man started it” she smiled.

“Yeah, well in all seriousness, I don’t want things to escalate with her” he replied trying not to laugh.

“Eh, her only crime is being herself… It is her crime” she paused to look in her drivers mirror and began to reverse out of her parking spot, “It is also her punishment”. At this Arthur couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter from escaping him.

“You seem relaxed about it all? If not a little cocky” he watched her face as she drove.

“Yeah well, you’re always gonna have someone be jealous or envious of your talent.” She said evenly. “You could be the world’s sweetest, most ripest peach and you’re STILL gonna meet someone who doesn’t like peaches. That’s the way I see it anyway, I don’t show off but don’t try and make me feel bad because I do something better.”

“That’s quite a philosophical way of putting things”

“Why thank you” she smiled. “Now, if only I could apply it outside of sports” she rolled her eyes.

   The rest of the short drive passed without problem and before long they found themselves outside a quaint little diner named Betty’s which was themed almost like a fifties tea room. It was mostly empty apart from some night workers from the local welding shop, a few truckers and the odd tourist passing through. Arthur had to admit he’d passed by the place many times but had never thought to stop in and sample the food. They were seated in a cosy booth by a smiley worker in a checked blue pinafore who greeted Joyce by name and were given two menu’s which true enough were filled to the brim with various breakfast foods.

“Wow you weren’t kidding” Arthur said as he looked through all of the options, “what’re you having?” he eyed her noticing she hadn’t bothered to look through the menu.

“Blueberry pancakes, maple syrup and tea” she reeled off.

“Huh, got yourself a sweet tooth?” he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Maybe” she smiled, “Plus I have to fill up on the calories I burnt off today or I’ll lose muscle mass.”

“Ah gotcha” he said with a smile, “I think I’ll take your grandma’s advice and go with the full fry up and a coffee”.

“Good man” she grinned. Soon the waitress arrived to take their orders with the promise that their drinks would be with them shortly. After she left them they fell into a silence which was tense now that they didn’t have anything to really distract them from the task at hand. Arthur decided that it was now or never and that it was the best time to start things off.

“Joyce,” he began, “Thanks for giving me the chance to explain things”

“Don’t thank me yet” she smiled slyly and raised a brow at him, he coughed and went to continue but was interrupted by the arrival of their hot drinks.

“Thanks” they said in unison to the waitress who gave them a smile and went on her way. Arthur watched Joyce add a spoon of sugar to her tea with a splash of milk and then stared down at his own black coffee.

“ _Here goes”_ he thought.

“We met when I was twenty one” he began and Joyce paused in stirring her hot drink to meet his eyes. “Her father didn’t approve much, she’s from a well off family ya see” She released her spoon with a clink. “I proposed and she said yes but it didn’t last long, her father sent her to Europe. Probably because he didn’t agree with it... Well, with me frankly.” He looked down at his coffee while Joyce gave him a worried frown.

“So, she’s quite literally the one that got away?” she said frowning slightly, taking in all this new information.

“Pretty much” he said simply.

“What’s her name?” she said quietly, he looked back to her and sighed.

“Mary Gillis, well, Mary Linton now” he shrugged, Joyce looked away briefly and hmm’d. “She went off to get married not long after, or so I hear. The other day I got a letter from her saying that she wanted to meet me just outside of Valentine, I didn’t know what for but I needed to go for my own peace of mind I think. To put it to bed one way or another.”

“I see” Joyce said thoughtfully, “I suppose in a way you needed to know if there was the possibility of a future there?”

“Of a fashion” Arthur said ashamedly. Joyce took a sip of her tea and stared into space for a moment in thought.

“So what happened?”

“Well,” he began, “I met her and she made it clear that it was all business, it turned out she wanted someone reliable to go and get her brother out of some cult he’d joined to get away from their father. Her father’s a real piece of work so it’s not all that surprising.” He huffed, “I helped her out, went home and that’s when I hit the bottle, losing yesterday in the process” She looked at him with a contemplative face, seeming to weigh him up somewhat but then looked away. He cleared his throat quietly, feeling like it was on the verge of becoming croaky with fatigue, “Listen Joyce,” he sighed glancing briefly back at his coffee, “I’ve not had much luck in love and I’ve been beating myself up over whether I’m wasting your time on me” at this statement Joyce looked at him with a confused expression “Maybe I was trying to sabotage myself when I decided to meet Mary, I dunno, but it’s safe to say that that’s all over now and I’d like to finally be able to move on. If you’re willing to give me a chance now that you know more than you did before then I’d really like to make a real go of it”. She looked surprised at his candour and almost brutal honesty.

“Well I appreciate your honesty,” she said genuinely, “as for wasting my time I’m not sure what you could possibly mean” she said with a small smile, “You haven’t given me any reason not to spend my time on you, in fact…” she cut herself off from what Arthur could see was shyness.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

“Well,” she’d pulled the sleeves of her top over her hands giving away her nervousness, “The way the women at work talk about you I can tell you’re well thought of and a real gentleman, I kinda wondered why you were interested in me of all people.” She shrugged blushing slightly.

“Are you kidding?” he said with a smile just for her, checking off on his fingers as he noted her attributes, “sweet, kind, talented, loves animals, brave-“

“Brave?” she scoffed with a smile yet had squirmed and blushed steadily more each time he had complimented her, “I don’t feel like a brave person”

“Well it must take guts getting on stage and performing in front of people not to mention working for a strip club when you have no intention of stripping. OR inviting a man you just met to your home… Which I would suggest not doing ever again” She gave a sly smile which reached her eyes and glanced at her tea.

“I’ll take that into consideration” she said with a grin as she took a sip of tea.

“Good to hear” he shook his head gently and then their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Arthur received what would be called a full English breakfast made up of; fried eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, hash browns and toast while Joyce received a beautiful stack of three thick blueberry pancakes, dusted in powdered sugar with maple syrup and butter on top. The joyful waitress deposited their meals with an expert flourish, cheerfully gave them an “I hope you enjoy!” and left them with a smile. After the waitress disappeared the pair didn’t look at their meals or pick up their cutlery but instead looked at each other, wanting to finish their important conversation before they dug into their food.

“So all compliments and joking aside, where does this leave us?” Joyce asked quietly.

“It leaves us wherever you want us” he said honestly, “the ball is in your court”

“Well,” she said slowly, “I think it’s safe to say we both think we aren’t good enough for one another and yet want to be with the other person for the foreseeable future?”

“Agreed” he said simply.

“Well, I think we should put that aside and just not worry, see how this goes” she said gently, her right hand moving across the table toward him. “Because my decision is that I would like whatever this is to continue between us” Arthur smiled down at her hand on the table in front of him and clasped it with his own.

“That sounds fine with me girlie” he smiled at her and she returned it brighter than he had seen all day.

 

…

 

“I have to be honest, I didn’t think you’d finish all of those” Arthur said disbelievingly as he gestured at her plate. Joyce had successfully demolished the three wide and thick pancakes that had been placed in front of her with no trouble at all and was now leaning back in her chair, tea cup in hand.

“How DARE you” she deadpanned. He grinned at her shaking his head softly and pushed his own plate away.

“Well this place is a winner with me, thanks for taking me here”

“No worries” she smiled. The waitress soon arrived to take their plates away and offer more hot drinks but they instead asked for the bill which she returned with quickly. Arthur took out his wallet to pay but Joyce stopped him.

“Don’t you be doing that” Arthur frowned.

“Arthur, I took you here so it’s on me… Plus I made a good couple of hundred dollars tonight, I’ll buy it” Arthur smirked and conceded defeat.

“Alright then, but it’ll be the last time”

“Yes dear” she said batting her eyelashes as she placed the bank notes onto the table.

   They headed out to Joyce’s car and after settling themselves and clicking their seat belts into place fell into a tentative silence, the unasked question falling between them.

“So,” Joyce started, tapping the steering wheel with her fingers. “Did you want me to take you back to yours or did you want to come back to mine?” Arthur mulled it over in his mind, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea but he didn’t care in that moment. The thought of sleeping next to Joyce after a horrible week like he’d had felt like heaven and he couldn’t resist the thought of putting his head down next to hers.

“We could go back to yours” he answered, “As long as you still got coffee” she smiled at him.

“Oh, I definitely have coffee” Joyce turned the key in the ignition and the car roared into life, she expertly drove out of the carpark and down the street passing the club on their way. A short ride later and they were driving into the now familiar underground car park at Joyce’s apartment where they then made their way up the metal steps to her front door. Upon opening the door Java bounded over to them wagging his tail wildly and rolling over to offer them both his belly. After settling Java down upon their entry, Arthur followed Joyce into her kitchen where she put the kettle on for them both and set up mugs.

“I don’t care what time it is, I need a tea to relax when I get home” she sighed.

“Long day?” He asked as he sat on a stool at the breakfast bar.

“Yeah. I was up at six for work at nine, finished at five, pole class for two hours after and then I went to the club”

“Jesus, what are you doing that to yourself for?” he shook his head at her, suddenly feeling bad for keeping her up.

“It’s nothing” she shrugged, “It’s only for Fridays, I’m used to working and training long hours” She poured the water into the mugs and handed him his coffee after giving it a stir. “Lounge?” she asked, ending the topic of conversation.

“Sure” he answered, following her into the next room with dog in tow. They settled onto the sofa and Joyce put the TV on for background noise.

“Out of interest, what made you give me a chance earlier?” she smiled slightly in response.

“Well, when you first told me about your ex your words were “we may never hear from her again for another fifteen years”

“Right?” he frowned confusedly.

“It was the fact that you included me in that when you said “We” like you saw a future. It gave me enough reason to hear you out”

“Huh, well I’m glad” he said as he put his arm around her. She relaxed against him and flicked through a few channels while Arthur closed his eyes and sank into the plush sofa they were settled upon. He felt hope in this budding romance and prayed that it would end happier than his previous relationships with his only worry being his work within the gang causing issues in the future. However he decided to put that from his mind for now and cross that bridge when he came to it because for now he was quite content just sitting on the couch with Joyce and Java at his feet.

“Oh!” Joyce said happily, “Goodfellas is on! I haven’t seen this is ages” Arthurs eyes popped open so hard they could’ve fallen out of his skull.

 _“For fucksake…”_ Arthur cringed inwardly.

 

…

 

   They didn’t make it to the end of the film, both feeling far too tired to even make half an hour through. They placed their mugs in the sink, took Java outside for a quick toilet visit and made their way to her room with Java plonking himself at the bottom of the bed in preparation.

“Good boy” Arthur said giving Java an affectionate pat to the head.

“Yeah he’s a quick learner” Joyce said with a smile. “I need a shower so you go get ready for bed first” she offered to which Arthur agreed to and upon re-entering her room found a glass of water and aspirin waiting for him on the bedside table.

“That’s for you” she said gesturing at the table, “Just in case you need it, I won’t be long” she made her way into the bathroom and Arthur downed the water, stripped down to his boxers and settled onto the bed. He awoke to the sound of a hair dryer and then registered the lights go off at some point followed by Joyce joining him. They decided to kick away the duvet due to the summer heat and settled into bed with Joyce laying her head on Arthur’s chest, he sighed slowly feeling glad to be finally resting. However he sensed that Joyce had not yet relaxed into the mattress as he felt her eyelashes brush against his collar bone as she blinked in the dark.

“… Are you busy next Thursday?” she asked.

“Can’t say I am, why?” Joyce swallowed and continued.

“Well, my pole studio has this performance night where we all just show our skills and routines we’ve learnt, it’s nothing serious, just a night at the studio with our friends and family. I was wondering if you’d like to come along and watch me perform?” Arthur was slightly taken aback and honoured that she’d even think to invite him.

“Sounds great” he said nodding, “Just let me know the address and time”

“Perfect” she said in a voice that gave away her smile as he felt her body relax.

 


End file.
